


The Beginning of a Hero

by SlightlyCrazyFangirl



Category: Avengers, MCU, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: And Clint has hearing aids, Avengers - Freeform, But he's still a dick, Gen, I'm Just Trying to Make it Half Decent, Loki is more mischievous than evil, Novel, The Avengers - Freeform, The Original Version was Written in 2011, This Isn't Going to be Perfectly Canon Compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:13:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27133682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlightlyCrazyFangirl/pseuds/SlightlyCrazyFangirl
Summary: Lily hasn't had a good go of life. Starting off with crappy parents, S.H.I.E.L.D. agent Clint Barton adopted her after he helped arrest her parents, but she ended up back in the system when a job gone wrong in Budapest took Clint's life. Jumping all over the country with a number of families, plus S.H.I.E.L.D. being weird, she's the first to say she got dealt a shitty hand.But, when Clint shows back up in her life, things seem good again. That is, until an old enemy resurfaces and she finds out why the people shethoughtwere S.H.I.E.L.D. really wanted her. Now throw some pagan gods in the mix, Lily realizes the world is about to ask her for a lot more than she ever expected to give.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	1. Things Start Getting Weird

**Author's Note:**

> Well. I should start this off by saying that this story is the edited version of something I wrote at the age of 11 by the same name. If you've already read it/remember reading it... Welcome back and _I'm so sorry_.
> 
> Long story short- the premise was okay. The actual writing? _Horrific_. Rereading it is like my younger self time-traveling to the present day to stab me repeatedly with cringe.
> 
> Now, it's been about, oh, five years? since I last touched this story. I figured it's time I come back to it, do some heavy editing, and put it up again. I'm trying to follow the plot of what I originally had to the best of my ability. Since this was originally written not long after _Captain America: The Winter Soldier_ came out, it won't follow more recent canon.
> 
> Now, while I do write as a hobby, I by no means think I'm spectacular. I _will_ retcon chapters and do some editing, add a detail here or there to help flow, characterization, etc. of the story. This story is also up on Wattpad under the same name and username. I'm brand new to this platform, so if you notice any errors, glaring or otherwise, feel free to let me know.
> 
> I'm also going to come forward and say, I am so very sorry if my updates are sporadic. I'm a senior, I'm getting ready for college, I've got AP classes, and I have a _horrible_ habit of falling down the research rabbit hole to get something _perfectly_ right. If something is wrong or off, don't be afraid to tell me, just be nice about it. I'll try to fix it if I can.
> 
> Just a heads up, chapter one is a bit dry. I apologize. I promise, it gets better after that chapter, but a girl has gotta set the scene. Please give me at least through chapter two to hook you. 
> 
> All that being said, please enjoy!

One day. One day, I’ll be able to avoid S.H.I.E.L.D., or Hydra, or whatever the hell they were now. I eagle-eyed them on the other side of the Central Park baseball diamonds. They hadn’t spotted _me_ in the tree yet, but with their history of being weird and creepy, it wasn’t worth the risk of staying. Not while being the only person in a tree amongst several gaggles of children, adults, and friends playing ball.

I clambered out of the tree as gracefully as I can, given the fact that I’m in skinny jeans, and make my way back to my foster home. With a dash of luck, the agents won’t follow me. With an additional dash of luck, my foster mother won’t get on me about there being dirt on my jeans.

On the way back, my mind wandered through the line of events that brought me here.

My biological parents were… Something. They would dole out punishments over the smallest of things. More than once, I got locked in a closet for something as small as spilling a glass of milk, or not given dinner because I had “mouthed off”. Little me thought it was perfectly normal.

That was, I thought it was normal until agents came bursting through the front door and arresting my parents when I was nine. Turned out they were involved in massive human rights violations. What violations those were, no one ever told the little baby me.

Frankly, what I remember most about that day was sobbing my eyes out. It’s not a pretty sight, either. My face gets all blotchy and red, and my normally bright hazel eyes go bloodshot. Not that it wasn’t warranted. No child likes it when a bunch of scary men in black with guns come bursting through the door. I didn’t know what my parents were doing to me was wrong, either, so I was distraught when they were forced out of the house.

One agent was kind enough to pull me to the side and explain the situation. He introduced himself as Clint, told me who these people were, what they did, and why my parents were being taken away. By the end of our conversation, he had me giggling and smiling through the tears.

He was also the man who took me in after the arrest of my parents. For four glorious years, I lived with Clint Barton- S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, archer, spy, and chronic goofball with purple hearing aids. He was usually busy with work, but it was still far better than what I had previously known. Things took a turn when his work took him to Hungary’s capital, Budapest.

All I was told was that it was a work trip. Why S.H.I.E.L.D. let him bring me, I’m not sure. Perhaps because I gave the cover of “single father on vacation” a boost. Either way, I don’t know what our true reason for being in Budapest was, but I was the only one to make it home.

Things were going well until we were on a walk with this redheaded woman with her coat hood up and a scarf around her face. It was cold out, so I didn’t question it. The two of them were talking in something other than English, and I was admiring the architecture. At some point, another man came and joined the conversation.

The tone of the encounter changed dramatically. Though the man seemed calm, Clint became tense and aggravated, and the new man seemed to be telling the redhead to do something. Next thing I knew, she shot Clint in the top right of his chest.

Terror shot through me and I bolted. Several more gunshots sounded behind me. I was sobbing and hysterical, but an American couple stopped to help me. Thanks to them, I got to the American Embassy, and S.H.I.E.L.D found me there. Agents asked for everything I knew, and I told them about the redhead killing Clint, and the man.

Just like the agents before, these agents seemed not to care about me. Days later, I was placed in the foster system and got passed around like a cursed ragdoll, never finding a family that really cared about me. Seven homes in two years, before I finally ended up with the Alfs. Mr. Gerald Alf and his wife, Mrs. Belinda Alf. They insisted on the Mr. and Mrs. parts. They were also the type to act like I should worship them and heed their every word, just because they were kind enough to give a lonely child a consistent home.

Add to it the fact that they thought a girl’s golden virtue was being sweet mouthed, subservient, and without a speck of dirt or dust on her, it wasn’t a wonder why I was hanging out in a tree at a park at the age of 16.

I glanced over my shoulder once I was out of the park. There were two people, about thirty feet behind me, one of which having been one from the park. There weren’t as many people walking on the streets in Manhattan Valley as there were in other parts of NYC, but it was my neighborhood. I knew it like the back of my hand, even though it was a large area. I went north instead of west and made some nonsensical turns, even going in the odd circle around a block. It took over an hour instead of ten minutes, but I eventually got back to my foster home.

Pure white walls greeted me as I walked into the first-floor apartment. The apartment itself was so lacking in personality, it became a personality black hole- nothing but white walls, light wood floors, and pale grey furniture. It sucked the soul out of you and was the perfect match for the renters who lived within.

Mrs. Alf looked up from the book she was reading on the couch to eye my pants. “What on _earth_ were you doing, young lady?” Her eyes then locked on my head. Guess I wasn’t allowed luck with her. “My god, you have twigs in your hair!” For what it was worth, I didn’t give a damn. Dirt, leaves, and tree bark come out.

“Relaxing in a tree,” I muttered. Mrs. Alf opened her mouth to say something else, but I gave her the finger and shut my door. It creaked like the souls of the damned as it shut. The stupid thing needed its hinges greased.

I flopped on my bed while pantomiming into my dresser mirror, “You’re clothes aren’t ladylike enough,” followed by, “You need to care more about your appearance!” while pulling scrunched and haggish faces. That woman made me want to scream. She was more concerned about how I looked and if I was representing _her_ well, than if I was doing okay myself. I plucked the sticks from my shoulder-length brown hair before flopping on my bed and looking out the window.

Oh, how I wish I was still outside, away from this house. I closed my eyes as I thought, _Well, at least it means a warm place to sleep and hot food_ , and drifted into an uneasy sleep.

Not that the sleep lasted long. Twenty minutes if I was lucky, judging by the fact that it was still light out. The groggy gears of my brain started turning, trying to make sense of the words I could hear through the thin apartment walls.

“I adopted her seven years ago, she was legally mine, and I have the documents to prove it!” a male voice yelled. It sounded similar to Mr. Alf, but the words made it obvious enough that it wasn’t.

“I don’t care. She’s in the care of me and my wife, so I suggest you see yourself out before I call the cops.” _That_ was undoubtedly Mr. Alf. The gruff, indifferent, ‘I can never be wrong,’ tone. “I don’t care who you say you are, Mr. Barton.”

Those brain gears just about started smoking, trying to move fast enough to figure out who Mr. Alf was talking to.

Then I realized what he said- _Barton._ Those words raced through me like a thousand volts of electricity, and I shot upright in bed. My mind raced through a thousand things of, “Oh my god, he’s not dead,” to, “Wait, S.H.I.E.L.D told me he was dead.”

Though the intelligence agency was shady, given they’ve been seemingly following me for three years, I watched Clint get shot. It begged the question- who was really out there, trying to take custody of me?

Ice replaced the electricity in my veins.


	2. Escaping S.H.I.E.L.D

I crept to my door and cracked it open, careful not to open it far enough where it creaked. Again. Mr. Alf hated it when I eavesdropped, even when it was about me. _Especially_ when it was about me. His rage wasn’t something I needed to deal with

However, what my eyes beheld was too much for me to keep in a gasp. Mr. Alf’s eyes shot to me, narrowing into an even more intense glare, but it didn’t matter. The Clint Barton that had taken me in at nine, treated me like a child and showed me that there’s no reason to be afraid when an adult raises their hand. He was alive, after three years, and maybe, just _maybe_ , I could finally leave the blasted foster system.

Mr. Alf cleared his throat loudly. “Lily, get back in your room, and we’ll have a conversation later.”

I let the door swing open fully. Mrs. Alf stood up from her chair. “No. This is about me, so I deserve to be a part of the discussion.” I met Mr. Alf’s cold, grey eyes. He stared me down like a sergeant trying to break a cadet. I stared back like a defiant child standing up to the school bully. Mrs. Alf came over and started pushing the door shut in front of me, but I stepped out of the room. “I refuse to be left out of yet another conversation regarding where I go in the foster system, you cold-hearted bastards.”

Mrs. Alf gasped at my language. I rolled my eyes. _Oh the humanity, she isn’t perfectly prim and soft-spoken!_ “The one man who ever treated me like his child isn’t dead. I don’t care what you guys think, I want to go with Clint.”

Clint looked at me and smiled, then returned a colder one to Mr. Alf. “She would rather be with me, so I don’t-”

Shattering glass from one of the living room windows cut him off. Blue and red and black fell through the window, fighting and punching like angry cats in an ultra-violent hissy fit. It didn’t take a genius to know at least one of those people who just came through the window, and likely both the people standing _outside_ the window, were S.H.I.E.L.D. Looks like I was oh for two in the luck department. My best bet to come out of the entire situation unscathed was to hoof it, and that’s exactly what I did.

Luckily for me, the window that the two people came so rudely crashing through wasn’t the same wall the front door was on, so I escaped unnoticed. I ran down the street before turning off it. Realizing running would just be suspicious, I slowed down to a fast walk and processed what happened.

S.H.I.E.L.D had never been so blatant about coming after me, much less with the man who took me in right there. It spelled bad news.

They were getting bolder. 

I needed to take stock of the situation. I needed to get somewhere safe without being followed. All in all, it would take three steps.

Step one was making sure I would have no unwanted guests. A glance around confirmed no one on the street was paying me any mind. A second glance, behind me this time, made sure no one was following me. Perfect.

Step two was the hardest part. Step two involved figuring out where it was actually safe. Usually, I would find a couple kids at my school that came from the life of hard-knocks, have them share a few tips on where to find food, and how to locate a warm spot to sleep. From there I would skip town.

But! Finding out Clint’s alive changed things. So, the safe place is no longer out of New York City. A safe place is somewhere Clint would find me, but not S.H.I.E.L.D. That would be tricky. Considering they were nosing around Central Park earlier, they knew it was my hangout spot, so that was out.

Or was it?

There’s a lesser-known spot, at the northern tip of the Lake in Central Park, called Bank Rock Bay. It made for an excellent bird-watching spot. It was wooded, too, meaning I could hide away in a tree. That would be where I went.

Step three was just getting there. Easy. Best of all, it was only a half-hour walk.

It took me a few minutes to locate a tree Clint and I always used to sit in, but I found it. It was several yards away from the water, standing tall and proud. Being mid-spring, too, the foliage was thick enough to hide a human body.

 _My_ human body, that is. No dead bodies.

For the second time today, I went up a tree. Given time, Clint would find me here. No doubt about it. The bigger threat was if S.H.I.E.L.D. would, but, admittedly, I haven’t visited much since Budapest. I wasn’t always in New York, and even this last year, the memories that brought so much joy now, were excruciating before.

The first time we visited, it was only a few weeks after Clint took me in. I was still quiet, reclusive, barely talking to him. There was one instance where he raised his hand to grab a book from a shelf and I started bawling. So, he thought a little field trip might help me adjust.

First time we went, in mid-fall, he brought two thermoses of cocoa and a blanket. The sounds of the birds, the rustling of wind in the leaves… It was invigorating.

Within minutes, I was up a tree. Clint just smiled and joined me.

We spent hours up there, watching the birds. After that, no matter what, he and I went once a week. He would teach me which birds were what and the corresponding bird calls.

Those were the good days.

I leaned back against the trunk and watched the water. Birds flitted to and fro around me, making their pleasant calls. My head bobbled, drowsiness creeping in as the adrenaline from getting away wore off.

“Hey, kid. You awake up there?” 

Let me tell you, I damn near fell out of that tree. It was by luck and a miracle alone that I managed to get my arms around the ten-inch diameter branch. Had I not, it would’ve been a long twenty feet to the ground.

“Jesus dude! Make a little more noise next time!” I yelled while getting back on the branch.

He chuckled. “Gonna come down and say hi or what?”

I looked down, just to confirm what my ears were hearing, and sure enough, it was Clint in all his glory, in blue jeans and a purple shirt that matched his hearing aid. The shirt even had a bullseye target on it. Same man that was in the apartment earlier, arguing with Mr. Alf.

A grin broke out on my face, and there was no possible way I could’ve scrambled down from the three shy of falling out of it. He grunted as I tackled him in the strongest hug of my short life. Like, surprised I didn’t crack a few of his ribs strong. What made it all the better was the fact that he hugged back just as tight. It was the same warm, comforting hug I remembered.

Clint pulled away before I did, but kept his hands on my shoulders. He was all smiles until he looked me up and down. “Have they been feeding you? You look like a twig.”

I just shrugged. “They’re more… traditional, I suppose. Gotta be quiet, respectful, never eat more than a lady should.” My head spun to look down the trail as a stick snapped, though it was just an unusually fat squirrel. Clint also looked, but he was certainly less on edge than me.

“We need to get out of here.” I started walking down the trail at a brisk pace. “That agency you work for is sketchy as hell. Every so often, I spot them following me at a distance.” Clint opened his mouth to say something, but I held up a hand to cut him off. “ _Yes,_ I’m certain it was S.H.I.E.L.D., because I would go to a different area and the agents followed me.”

“Hm. That’s odd.”

 _Yeah, you don’t say._ Hopefully my face said everything I was thinking.

Clint’s raised eyebrow said my sass conveyed exactly as intended. “No matter. I do have somewhere we can head to, but we’ve got to pick a couple people up first.” He didn’t say anything more to fill the silence. I _did_ have plenty of questions to ask, but none of them were appropriate to ask in public with potential listening ears.

Luckily for me, it didn’t take long to get out of Central Park. Clint shot me a goofy smile. “I think you’ll like my new lady.”

Several more questions joined those already swirling through my brain. _Girlfriend_? Dude never had any romantic partners in the time I was with him. He didn’t show any interest in anyone. So who would a girlfriend be? What would she be like?

It made more sense once we walked up to a sleek black car and his grin got larger. “Meet Chandra.” He patted the top of the car before getting in the driver seat. I hopped in passenger and got my belt on while Clint started the car.

“So, any idea why your coworkers have been following me?” It was irritating, to say the least, and very easily something to be concerned about. Part of me wanted to think they were just keeping an eye on me, but if that was the case, why not pull me from the system when it was obvious that Clint wasn’t actually dead? Why not keep me with another agent to make sure I stay safe, considering I had witnessed an attempted murder.

He waited for a car to pass before pulling away from the curb starting to drive. His fingers were tapping on the wheel. _Tap tap tap._ But it took a notable several moments for him to respond. “That was Hydra, not S.H.I.E.L.D. Fury told me he lost track of you a month after you went back into the system.” Clint looked at me again. “Didn’t you hear about the massive leak of files, revealing that Hydra has been part of S.H.I.E.L.D. since the beginning?”

“I did,” I said, and it _was_ the truth. “However, they’ve started being weird long before that bombshell landed.” Also true. The day it was revealed, I was one of the few people who couldn’t have cared less. S.H.I.E.L.D., Hydra, they were both weird, sketchy, and untrustable. It didn’t matter to me which it was doing the following. Anyone who willingly planned to do mass world surveillance isn’t your friend, and anyone who used to be literal Nazis but worse _certainly_ isn’t your friend.

Clint just sighed. “It was Hydra following you, but that’s a conversation for another time. You know who Steve Rogers is, right?”

A monumental effort and years of practicing maintaining an even expression are the only reason I didn’t outwardly react. In the wise words of Elsa… Conceal, don’t feel, don’t let them know. “Yeah. Every World War Two unit talks about him. Hard not to know who Steve Rogers is, even if you ignore the shit storm that was the Battle of New York a few years ago.”

“Mm, the Chitauri… How did you not know I was alive? I was there dealing with the situation, I’m part of the Avengers.”

That was… news. “I was living with an LDS family in Utah at the time. We didn’t watch much news coverage of it.” I always considered myself lucky to be with them during that. They weren’t the greatest people- I also wasn’t very nice to them- but it was better than living in NYC during that chaos.

Clint side-eyed me. “Mormons? They place you, who I can only assume has continued to develop a distaste for authority and ‘Because I told you to’ attitudes, with _Mormons_?”

Ah, even after three years, he knows me so well. “First of all, they go by LDS now.” That was drilled into me, and I do respect the religious choices of others, so long as they didn’t go about stepping over boundaries. “Second of all, yes. I didn’t get much of a say in where they stuck me. You were saying something about Captain Rogers?”

“I suppose you’ll see in a second.”

The car came to the stop in front of an Irish pub, and we both got out. Now seemed like a horrible time for a social beer and burger, but I kept my trap shut. We stood there like idiots for a couple of minutes, not saying anything, and me confused out of my mind, until Steve Rogers himself walked over in a red sweater and blue jeans.

There was no poker face this time around. My eye locked onto him and my lip curled up. I could already hear the opening words of that video, “So, you screwed up,” and the so _stupidly_ corny line of a man who thinks he’s the hot shit for being a war hero and frozen in ice and saying, “The only way to be cool, is to follow the rules.” _God_. So irritating, especially when I have detention at least once a month.

A throat cleared next to me. “Lily, your eye is twitching.”

My eyes shot to Clint, who had spoken, then back to Rogers. I forced a smile. It certainly looked fake as hell, but compared to whatever face I _had_ pulled, it was (hopefully) an improvement.

Rogers still seemed skeptical. “You must be Barton’s kid.”

Knowing Clint must’ve talked about me _did_ pull my spirits up some. “I am indeed, sir. May I ask your role within S.H.I.E.L.D.?” True, I didn’t care about what S.H.I.E.L.D. really was, but it’d been only a month since the Helicarrier and leak incident, and it was still all over the news. One of the big things that came up was that Steve Rogers’ was practically their lap dog. For obvious reasons, it was a worrying prospect.

“I’m distancing myself from them. You don’t trust me, but you do trust Barton?” Oddly, his tone was accusatory. More… curious. Testing.

That only incensed me more.

“The man took me in, _protected_ me, and showed me adults weren’t inherently scary. If he wanted to harm me, he would’ve by now.”

The answer seemed satisfactory to him.  
Rogers pulled out a phone far beyond what the vast majority of people have access to and checked something. “Nat says she’s almost here, and to wait in the car for her. She thinks there may be someone on her heels.”

Clint nodded. “She may just be paranoid, but after earlier… Can’t be too safe.” He got back in the driver’s seat, and I let Rogers’ take passenger. Morally irritating twat or not, he had longer legs than me. I got in behind Clint to avoid having my own legs cramped.

All three of us waited another couple of minutes until the back passenger door opened, and a woman climbed in. “We need to get going, I’m positive a woman in a black baseball cap is following me.” And, just like that, Clint was driving again.

I looked over at our fourth occupant. For the second time that day, my blood ran cold.

“What the _actual_ fuck!”

Rogers’ eyes shot to me in the rearview mirror. “Hey, language!”

I glared back at him. That glare was the only thing hiding the sheer panic running through my body. “The words I chose are not beholden to you!” My eyes shot to Clint, who was watching my lips in the rearview mirror. “Why the  _ hell  _ is she in a car with us?!” He seemed calm when he should’ve been the most panicked among us. If I hadn’t forgotten her face and voice, despite a scarf and foreign language, he sure as hell shouldn’t have.

And yet, he responded with utter calmness. “Natasha is a friend, Lily.”

“She _shot_ you! More than once!”

The woman beside me laughed, of all responses. Why was she laughing? “It wasn’t ideal, but my hand was forced. You still remember me?”

My eyes shot back to her, an astonished look on my face. “You _shot_ my father _in front of me_! No shit I remember you!”

Rogers was now confused in addition to moderately scandalized. The woman- who I will not dignify by using her name- was bemused by the entire situation. Clint, meanwhile, had an ear to ear grin despite the fact that I was in the back seat losing my shit. I think referring to him as my father made his day.

So, widely different reactions all around.

“Lily, Nat was undercover,” Clint said. “We got caught talking by her boss, so she had to shoot me to prevent anything worse from happening.” He looked at me in the rearview mirror again, a serious expression that’s typically so rare for him returning to his face. “It would be appreciated if you give her a chance.”

I crossed my arms. “Hmph. Fine.” She was looking at me again. “Not all is forgiven. Not right away.” Just so she knew I was talking to her, I threw a quick glance her way.

The woman did an understanding little head tilt. “Fair enough. Did the three of you have any issues with Hydra while going to pick her up?”

“I got tossed through a living room window.” Rogers sounded indignant more than anything else. “This is the second time in a month that I’ve gone through glass because of them.”

That brought me a small amount of joy. Sure, he’s trying to help me and the general public, but when there’s so much spite towards one person… Call me what you will, but ooh, knowing they got thrown through windows feels good.

All schadenfreude aside, the topic of Hydra was an important one. “What is it they want with me, anyway? S.H.I.E.L.D. makes sense, especially if Clint wasn’t dead. It would’ve been bad if I started getting suspicious or said something that would put him in danger, but Hydra?”

“Best we can figure, Hydra thought you were the easiest thing to use against Clint,” the woman said. She was all business now. No amusement in her voice or face. “I’m not exactly easy to just grab, and neither is Steve. How they _didn’t_ get you is what we haven’t figured out, because S.H.I.E.L.D. lost track of you after six months.”

My mind flipped through various reasons why they might not have grabbed me. The first idea was they’re just terrible kidnappers, but that was unreasonable. If they could infiltrate an intelligence agency, then they should be able to do a simple kidnapping or murder. Idea two was they wanted me alive for some reason, but not have me with them. That didn’t make much sense, because the only remarkable thing about me is my connection to Clint Barton.

Idea three hit me and seemed far more plausible.

“The foster system. That’s how.” Three confused faces looked back. “I went through seven homes in two years. The longest I was in any one place before the Alfs was six months, and that was only the first home.” Not once before this had I been grateful for the foster. Families had been everywhere from uncaring to downright nasty. It was impossible to make friends. Not once in three years had I genuinely felt loved. Despite all of that, it seemed like that’s the reason I wasn’t either kidnapped or murdered.

Funny how life works like that. It’s a bitch and, in the long run, sucks, but at least I’m still alive.

Clint just nodded, his mind obviously already on something else. “Well, you’re in one piece, and that’s what matters. We’re bringing you with us to Steve’s old training camp.”

“Isn’t that a bunch of rubble now? A gas leak or something?”

“Rubble, yes. Gas leak, no” Rogers said. He looked lost in thought. Lost in the past. “Hydra tried blowing it up with Nat and I inside. The remnants of S.H.I.E.L.D. rebuilt Camp Lehigh in New York, in a more remote area.”

“Aha.” Seemed like a weird move for an intelligence agency, and to do it so quickly at that. Something was telling me that there were still secrets there. “And how do you plan to deal with Hydra? All due respect-” which wasn’t much right now- “but you couldn’t even bring them down during the war.”

Rogers sighed heavily. “We’re just doing what we can, where we can.” He looked out the window as the car rolled through an open gate, passing a “Keep out” sign.

Just looking at the buildings made me feel as though we had stepped through time. I didn’t know what any of the buildings were, but it still had the aura of the ‘40s. Any moment, there should’ve been a group of men jogging by.

Even Rogers seemed to feel it. He was staring at a flagpole, mentally 70 years in the past. I couldn’t help but feel bad. All his friends, family, everything he ever knew, were gone, replaced by the modern era. It’s a wonder he can function in the 21st century at all.

Clint parked the car and gently shocked Rogers’ shoulder. “Hey, Cap. You good?”

Rogers hastily nodded, then got out. The three of us followed suit. We walked into the nearest building, where four were people waiting already. 

One I recognized from school as Bruce Banner. The sciency kids practically worshipped him. The tall blond I knew immediately was Thor, both from media coverage after the Battle of New York and after reading various mythological accounts- the mythology of different cultures had always been a point of fascination for me.

The other two, however, I hadn’t the foggiest who they were. One was a black man who clearly worked out and held himself tall, but didn’t come off as gruff or dangerous. More like the kind neighbor who would be 100% willing to shoot hoops with kids on the street, or help with homework if your parents were gone. The woman was white and in a maroon t-shirt. Though she should’ve been unassuming, something about her… unsettled me. She spoke first, and with an accent.

“Clint, is this the girl you were talking about?”


	3. Fists, Knives, and Bows, Oh My!

Clint clasped my shoulder. “She is. Lily, meet Wanda Maximoff-” he gestured with his free hand to the woman who spoke- “Thor-” then to the towering blond stack of muscles I already had identified- “Dr. Bruce Banner-” Dr. Banner gave an awkward wave and smile to me- “and Sam Wilson.” Sam smiled, and it was surprisingly warm. He was continuing to seem like a truly nice dude.

Rogers and Sam did a quick little bro hug, then Sam fist-bumped the woman (whom I still refused to dignify a name). “Glad you guys managed to get here all in one piece. Does she have any fighting ability?”

All eyes were back on me. It would’ve been a bit nicer if they weren’t. “I know the basics of archery and knife throwing?” I phrased it as a question because it had been so long since Clint and I did archery together, I was probably terrible at it now, and there weren’t exactly many opportunities to practice knife throwing in the Big Apple either. “I’m half-decent in a fight, though.”

Which was true. I had gotten in my fair share of fistfights at all the various schools I’d been to. A kid would mouth off to me, snap my bra strap, or do something else stupid, and if it was stupid enough or they did it often enough, I would deck them. There were also several notable occasions where I got in a fight with a jock or two.

I usually came out more roughed up from those ones, but they took hits too, and that’s what matters.

Thor took a few steps away from the wall, observing me with his hand on his chin. “Perhaps we could do a friendly spar to get a feel for her abilities.”

“Yeah, sure, but not with you, hotshot,” Clint said. “I’d rather you not break my kid if that’s alright.”

Rogers and Sam shared a look. It was one of those looks where they were clearly having a silent conversation where they didn’t move their lips, but they did all the other gestures- head tilt, the odd nod, everything. Sam then looked to me and Clint. “Steve and I could do a quick round or two with her.” Clint opened his mouth to say something, but Sam held up a hand to silence him. “We’ll be careful, don’t worry.”

He sighed but gestured for me to step into the center of the room. That worried me because there wasn’t a mat over the concrete floor. If I got floored… Well, in the spirit of not mincing words, it would hurt like a son of a bitch. Nevertheless, I stepped forward and put my fists up, eyes on Rogers.

Yeah, that was a mistake. Sam just about blindsided me and I barely managed to dodge. My focus shot to him. He was coming at my fast, but with open hands. My one potential in would be the fact I was a cool 5’3”. And, when Clint so kindly asked if I was being fed, it wasn’t for nothing. I weighed about 115 pounds soaking wet. The other nice thing was he was coming at me open-handed- not fists.

His next swing came and I blocked and went for a torso smack. Sam blocked  _ my  _ attack, and next thing I knew, I was on the ground. 

How he kept my head from cracking on the ground, I have no clue, but hey, who would I be to argue? 

“Well, that certainly didn’t go well,” I groaned. An understatement of massive proportion. I got my ass kicked. Gently kicked, but kicked nonetheless.

Sam just chuckled. “I’m a trained veteran. I’d be worried if you beat me.” He extended his hand and helped me up. “Go against Steve.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What’s the point?”

He shrugged. “See how you handle his style of fighting. Curiosity. Those things.”

I pursed my lips, but faced Rogers and got back into position. Curiosity, I guess, is as good a reason as any. Even if said curiosity gets my ass kicked again.

Staring him down, that same rage that washed over me earlier, and every time I watch one of those blasted videos. That same man who acted like he knew  _ exactly  _ what was right or wrong, no matter  _ why  _ we did what we did or who was actually in the wrong. He was insufferable.

Rogers came at me, and I launched myself at him. I for sure landed a hit on his torso, and I’m about ninety percent certain I kicked him a few times in the shin. He stood there, staring at me in shock and confusion, before attacking back. 

The only reason I lasted longer in that fight was purely due to my rage. Rogers should've kicked my ass and then some. And, don't get me wrong, he got a fair few hits in, but I was holding my own through the power of teenage rage. 

It was going great until someone spoke. 

"Cap, why are you fighting a child, and why does she hate you so much?"

My eyes snapped to the man who spoke as he popped an M&M in his mouth. There was just enough time for my brain to process that, hey, it's Tony Stark, before a force to my chest both winded and knocked me down. 

“Hgnnn…”

“Shit, sorry.”

I slowly raised one hand and gave the finger, then, once I had recovered enough oxygen that he had so rudely stolen, muttered, “Language, you hypocrite.”

He just sighed. “I wasn’t expecting you to be distracted.”

“Expect the unexpected, Cap,” Tony Stark said. He popped another M&M in his mouth while I got back up off the floor, then offered me one from the bag. “I’ve never met a non-Neo-Nazi teenager that doesn’t like the high and mighty Steven Rogers. Have some candy.”

His reaction caught me off guard. Did he also not like Rogers? How many Neo-Nazis has he met that he automatically assumes that they hate Rogers? Doesn’t Tony Stark know that most Neo-Nazis pretty much worship Captain America? Either way, I took several M&Ms. I never refuse the chance for chocolate.

“The school worships him and I have to watch a video of him lecturing me every time I get detention for punching some racist asshole, while the racist asshole gets off scot-free.”  _ You would hate him too,  _ I thought. 

Tony laughed. “Those videos are really screwing you over, huh, Cap?” He gave him a playful shove, then left the room through the door he came from.

Rogers had a dawning understanding on his face. “That… That explains quite a bit.” He sat down in one of the chairs along the side of the room, then started shaking with laughter. “The S.H.I.E.L.D. board of directors forced me to do those. How often do you get detention that the mere sight of me makes your eye twitch?”

I eyed him. “At least once a month, usually two or three times. Every teacher hates me.”

He smiled and nodded. “That’ll do it. I promise I’m not nearly that irritating.”

“Usually, no,” Wanda said, speaking for the first time since I walked in. “Though you do have your moments, particularly when you shriek in Gaelic in your sleep.”

“It was one time!”

“No, my man, it was three times in the last few weeks,” Sam corrected.

Sam’s comment led them into a circle of bickering, though it all sounded friendly. I leaned against the wall. Thor was the only one not actively arguing, but he was bellowing in laughter. “And yet, my friends,” he began between laughs, “no one complains of my snoring!”

Clint scoffed. “Only because we made sure to soundproof your room first."

“Hm. Either way. And your girl did a good job against Steve.”

A smile graced my face. I didn’t do a great job against either of them, but a compliment was a compliment.

Then the woman spoke up. “Hand to hand is all well and good, but Lily still needs plenty of training in that area.” No shit lady. Nothing like hearing her speak to bring my mood back down. “And she needs to learn other skills.”

I rubbed my face and walked back into their little group they were standing in. “I’m not particularly strong in any one area, but I know basic archery and some knife throwing.” She should know I know archery, considering she knew Clint took me in. “Give me some knives and I’ll show you.”

She raised an eyebrow but started walking to another room. I followed her, as did Clint. The room we went into had a variety of guns, a couple bows, a metric shit ton of arrows, some knives, and a few different types of targets. So, what you’d expect from a range for people of eclectic abilities like these guys. This room, just like the other one, had a distinct lack of personality beyond “boring military base.” So, in essence, depressing.

I grabbed three knives off a rack. They were simple, with black handles and no embellishment, but fit and felt nice in my hands. Squaring up with an archery target, which was just a circle of hay with five dyed rings, I threw the first dagger.

It hit the target, and I winced. It was barely inside the second outermost ring. I threw the second dagger, and it wasn’t much better- it hit the middle ring. The third dagger landed solidly in the top middle of the second innermost ring. Better, but still not very good.

The woman was side-eyeing me in a blatantly judgemental way. “I was told you’d be good at this.”

“Lay off,” I shot back while walking to the target to retrieve the daggers. “I haven’t exactly been able to practice frequently.” Moving around so often with varying degrees of strict families made practicing any sort of combat pretty impossible. I was just impressed I got anywhere near the bullseye.

She looked at me and sighed. “You still need to practice.” 

Some crashing and swearing echoed into the training room from somewhere else in the base. The woman pinched the bridge of her nose. “That’ll be Tony. I’ll make sure he’s still breathing and not trapped under something.” She left the room as a second round of swearing began.

Clint shook his head. “Wonder what he managed to knock over this time.”

I walked over to the weapons rack and put the knives away. The bow called out to me, whispering  _ You know you want to _ . It had been too long by far. “What’s he like, anyway? I don’t know much about him outside what’s reported on.” I couldn’t resist the urge, and there was no harm in getting some practice in, so I grabbed a bow and some arrows and got set up at the target.

Clint smiled and did the same, but at the target to my right. “He’s… eccentric, to say the least. Has a lot of money, spends a lot of money…”  _ Kathunk.  _ One arrow, one bullseye. His aim was good as ever. “Tony is a good person, though. Does what he can to help people.”

“So, tracks with what I’ve heard about him.” I nocked an arrow and drew the bowstring, my right arm shaking with the strain.  _ Damn, I’m out of shape… _ “What about… Oh, what’s her name? Wanda? The woman that isn’t  _ the  _ woman. She gives me a weird vibe.”

_ Breath in, breath out… Release.  _ The arrow barely made a far less satisfying noise as it hit the target. It barely even made it to the target, instead taking a sad arching route before embedding itself in the bottom left edge at a 45° angle. It’s a wonder that it even  _ stayed  _ in the target. My aim and arm strength were certainly turning out to be shitty.

He chuckled. Whether it was at my aim or what I called the redhead, I wasn’t sure. “Wanda’s nice. She and her twin brother ended up with some powers at the hand of Hydra. Her schtick is mostly telekinesis and walking nightmares.”  _ Oh.  _ No wonder she gave me the heebie-jeebies. Clint drew a second arrow and released, oblivious to my mental processes. His arrow landed next to the first and was so close that you wouldn’t have been able to fit a razor between them. “Grip your bow lighter, that might help.”

Hm. I’d forgotten about that. “What happened to her brother?” I knocked my second arrow and repeated the process, keeping Clint’s tip in mind.  _ Breath in, breath out… Release.  _ It lodged itself a few more inches up and towards the center.

Clint looked at the floor as he twirled an arrow. “He didn’t make it out of Sokovia.”

A heavy silence fell around us. Clint drew and fired the arrow he was twiddling, but the shot was high and it hit the wall before clattering to the floor.

“I’m sorry…” The words didn’t even begin to cut it, the loss he must have felt, but they were the only words I could summon.

He took a deep breath and shrugged. “It is what it is. The speedy bastard would hate for me to feel guilty about it.” His lips twitched into a small smile at some distant memory and retrieved the three arrows he shot. I didn’t fire any more arrows, not only because it’s dangerous on principle when someone is in the lane, but also because I’d already proven my aim had suffered something fierce in my lack of practice.

Only once he had come back to where we were standing did I nock another arrow. That one landed somewhere between my first two shots, though perhaps because my mind had already wandered elsewhere. Namely, my parents.


	4. The Good Guys Can Suck, Too

What it was they were doing, I had never been told. It _was_ understandable. I was only nine when my parents were arrested, and thirteen isn’t all that mature either, especially when it comes to something that may involve sensitive information.

All that being said, I felt it was time someone finally filled me in on what they were doing.

“What was it my parents did?” I gathered the arrows in the target before putting everything away. Thinking of the _lovely_ people they were didn’t exactly inspire me to continue practicing my shot. “I know they weren’t good people, I know they were doing something horrific, but no one ever told me _what_ they did or why.”

Clint looked at me and straightened his posture, trying to recompose himself. “They were suspected terrorists and conducted various… Human experiments.”

I furrowed my brow. “Human experiments” could be perfectly fine in plenty of contexts, because… sciency science and psychology and a board of ethics, but Clint’s intonation made it plain that, yes, there was sciency science, but there was no board of ethics. 

“Dare I ask what the experiments were?”

He shook his head while turning away from me. “It’s classified, and frankly, I was never fully filled in on what they did.” Clint shot another arrow. This one _did_ hit the target, but it went wide and was two rings outside the bullseye. His shooting had become almost as bad as mine.

The response seemed weird, but plausible. “And how come… How come they practically just brushed me aside?” No other agent had seemed to care, or at least that’s what it felt like to nine-year-old me. They _were_ there to arrest moral-less scientists, apparently, so I guess they did have bigger issues on the table.

“They didn’t care what happened to you.”

The bluntness of the statement rammed into my chest far harder than it had any right to. “What do you mean, ‘They didn’t care’? Isn’t it S.H.I.E.L.D.’s business to care about what happens to those caught in the crossfire?” That was why the Avengers were formed in the first place, at least as far as I had heard. That was the point of the agency getting involved in human rights violations- caring about what was happening to others.

Clint just smiled ruefully. “That’s the stance of the agency, but the men on the team with me weren’t the kind to care about small children.” I blinked at him a few times before he continued speaking. “They didn’t care if you died during the raid, got put in a cell with your parents, or drifted aimlessly in misery through the foster system.”

“What a bunch of heartless bastards.”

A chuckle at my statement made it clear he agreed. “But I, too, am a member of the ‘my home life was shit’ club.” He tapped his conspicuous, purple hearing aid with one finger. “The reason I need this baby is ‘cause my father kicked me in the head when I was eight.”

While it made me happy Clint helped because he understood, knowing _why_ he needed a hearing aid hurt just as much as knowing the agents that helped arrest my parents didn’t give a damn about me. No kid should have to go through abuse and fight their way to the other side, trying, hoping, _begging_ for a life that was better than what they came from. That people tasked with helping the world couldn’t care less about children, who are nothing short of the building blocks of the future… It made me angry, but more so, it saddened me.

What a spirit-lifting conversation we were having!

“Well… At least _you_ cared, and _you_ tried to do something,” I said, giving him a playful shove. Even though I only lived with Clint for four years before his “death”, those four years gave me some of the best times in my short life. Memories from that time kept me going in the perpetual change that accompanies being a child in the foster system. He gave me _something_ to lighten up my life.

A true smile, albeit a small one, crossed his face again. “At the end of the day, I’m just glad I could help.” 

Silence fell around us as he retrieved his arrows. It seemed that he, too, had lost the desire to practice through the course of our conversation. “Well, let’s head back to the others. Maybe we can get some food with them.” He put the equipment back, and we headed down the halls.

The room we entered actually had furniture that seemed meant for leisure. It was a card table, some folding chairs, and several understuffed couches of a truly horrific shade of green, but it was more welcoming than what the building had shown so far.

Rogers, Sam, and Wanda were sitting at the table, playing some card game with some truly used cards with small piles of pretzels on either side of each of them and a pile by the played cards. The cards looked dated, too. Like, straight from the ‘70s dated. Thor was lounging on one of the couches. The woman and Tony were nowhere to be seen. She was probably still making sure he was in one piece, after whatever those crashing noises were. Clint plopped down on the unoccupied couch, where he would have the best view of what everyone was saying. I sat next to him.

Rogers grinned as he swept the pile to him. “And that would be 21, my friends.”

Sam groaned and tossed his cards down. “Damn you, man. Damn you and your luck.”

Rogers laughed and started shuffling the deck while turning his attention to Clint and me. “So, what took the two of you so long?”

“Just having a conversation and clearing a few things up,” he said. “Lily practiced a little archery while we were at it.”

He completed the bridge and started tossing cards to the other two who were playing. “I’m guessing she’s almost as skilled as you are. I can’t imagine you having a kid and _not_ teaching her everything under the sun about how to shoot.”

I rubbed the back of my neck. “Yeaaah…” The skill, or rather lack of, that I had shown was more than a little embarrassing. You get taught by one of the world’s best archers, and can barely even pull the bowstring back? Even if it’s been several years, that’s sad. “I need a _lot_ more practice.”

Thor looked at me and raised his mug of… probably not water. “There is no shame in that. Practice and relearn, and I’m sure you’ll soon match your father in skill soon.” The others nodded in agreement while downing whatever liquid he had in one great gulp.

Well, at least they have faith in me. “Believe me, I plan on plenty of practice.”

“That’s good, because you’ll need to practice,” Rogers said. “We had a chat while you and Clint were in the range, and we’ve come to a decision.” He pulled a face as Sam apparently pulled a winning card. Despite winning the last round, Rogers’ pretzel pile was starting to look meager. “We’d like to keep you around and potentially have you join the team.”

I blinked at him. “What team…?”

Sam raised an eyebrow with an amused smile. “He means the Avengers, kid.”

My eyes got huge. “ _Oh_!” That was certainly news. That was _huge_ news. I was just some kid who happened to get adopted by an Avenger before the Avengers were even a thing. I could barely fight or shoot, but they still wanted me to join. They didn’t even seem to mind that I’d need a shit ton of training! “I mean, archery is kinda my only potential thing, but sure!”

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Sam said. “The team has been talking about getting a group of people from the younger generation so that when we get old and grey, you guys can take over.”

A slightly morbid thought, but good foresight on their end.

“Now if you guys would stop trying to stick _me_ on the Young Avengers, that would be great,” Wanda grumbled. Clint tried, unsuccessfully, to turn a laugh into a cough. She shot him a look, but you could tell there wasn’t actually anything angry or mean behind it. Just friends and teammates giving each other shit.

Thor, too, was grinning. “Well, my friends, this is all well and good, but I have some news, but alas, you will not like it.”


	5. A True Test I Didn't Ask For

"Well, spit it out, Thundercheeks," Clint said. 

“Loki is on his way.”

Those few words brought the card game to a halt and unleashed a number of reactions. Sam seemed caught off guard. Wanda smiled, as though it were a pleasant surprise and a chance to meet someone she may have a fair deal in common with. Rogers sighed heavily, grumbling something under his breath that I couldn’t quite make out.

Alarmingly, Clint had the most neutral face at that statement.

“Well… I could use a new target for target practice.”

“I kindly request you  _ not  _ kill my brother,” Thor said. “I understand what he did was horrible, and what he did to you certainly must have been far from pleasant, but he had a good reason and is not our enemy.”

Clint scoffed and stood up. “He brainwashed me and made me kill people for him!” The lack of emotion he began with wasn’t the case anymore. He looked  _ furious _ . Anger was etched into every aspect of his expression and posture, from his shoulders being back to the scowl across his lips. “He’s responsible for countless deaths of agents  _ and  _ the carnage of New York City. Even if he has suddenly had a change of heart, I don’t want him around Lily.”

“Not even a little bit curious about my side of the story, Barton?”

Hearing those words nearly made me jump out of my skin. The voice speaking was velvety, smooth,  _ persuasive _ , but what startled me so badly was that it was a new person talking from the opposite direction from where I was looking.

All eyes snapped to the door. Sure enough, Loki was standing there clad in green, black, and gold leather and metal armor. He was smirking, calm as can be. “Promise, it’s quite the story.”

Clint took one, slow step forward. “Come a little closer, Loki, I  _ dare _ you.” His eyes were wild smoldering with hatred, and murder was on his mind. His fury wasn’t directed at me, but I wanted to shrink back into the couch. It reminded me so much of my biological parents, their disdain for me, and of the beatings that would follow. He wasn’t furious with me, but I was still frozen in my spot, heart in my throat, eyes locked on him.

“Oh, I think I’ll pass, thank you. I rather value breathing.”

In an instant, Clint was lunging at Loki, hands reaching for his neck. It should’ve been an easy tackle, but as soon as Clint made contact, he went through Loki as Loki faded away, reappearing next to Thor.

He cackled. “So close, Agent Barton. Like to try again?”

Thor and Rogers leapt up and got between them.

“Clint, keep your head about you!” Rogers demanded. He then gestured his head at me and lowered his voice. All I caught were “she think” and “terrified”, but I think he got the gist of my reaction to the situation. Clint looked at me and softened his expression, then looked back to Loki, then back to me, then to Thor

“Fine, but if he tries anything towards her, I can’t promise what will happen.”

Thor sighed heavily. “Then you will not like the test that the rest of us planned.” He sat down while Rogers stayed between the two enemies. “We thought it wise to test her survival skills.”

“We could do that without his help!”

Loki chuckled and sat down like a cocky schoolboy in the chair Rogers had vacated. “But I have abilities that none of you do. I can mimic the skills of your enemy with my magic more accurately than you could ever hope for, and Maximoff has graciously agreed to help.”

Clint opened his mouth, then closed it. He wanted to protest, but Loki wasn’t wrong. He instead looked to the others. “Why did you discuss this without me?”

Wanda was the only one who was looking him in the eye. “Clint, you never would have agreed otherwise. Our biggest enemy right now is Hydra, and they may still have Mind Stone technology that we’re unaware of.” 

He sighed and sat down. “I guess you’re right.”

“Well, this is great and all,” I said, “but I still don’t know what the test is or when it starts. Or how to prepare for it.” And the Mind Stone they mentioned… That worried me some. It didn’t take a genius to guess what it might do.

“I’m sure they’ll tell you after they fill  _ me _ in on what’s happening.” Clint shot a not so friendly look at his friends, and I took it as my cue to leave the room.

I didn’t go far, only walking to the end of the hall. My sense of direction was decent, but there was no sense in going farther than yelling distance, but beyond the point where I could hear them arguing. Being within earshot of angry people sucked.

My mind wandered through the events of the day. In the span of six hours, I had learned that Clint Barton wasn’t dead, he’s friends with the woman who shot him in Budapest, I finally got to unleash some of my rage towards Steve Rogers, and they decided they wanted me to join the Avengers. It had been quite the day, and the day wasn’t even over yet. There wasn’t a clock nearby, but it couldn’t have been any later than 7 PM.

The prospect of joining the team, or being a part of a younger iteration of it, excited me. Yeah, there would be risks, but I would be able to help people and be part of something larger than me. Worries that came with joining could wait for later. What I was more worried about was whatever that test could be.

Loki, a god of mischief and lies, wanted to put me through a test. Mind you, Thor did say they had all decided it was a good idea, but still. I don’t trust the God who managed to trash New York. He could be planning any number of things, and Clint clearly didn’t trust him. Even if the others seemed to, anyone Clint is skeptical of,  _ I’m  _ skeptical of.

What was almost more concerning was that Wanda had apparently volunteered to help with the testing, and I didn’t know where her Avenging abilities lied. Sure, the Avengers were in the news practically every other week, but the news was rarely something I watched. So why was I so concerned? Because of the vibe she gave off.

Just being near her, I could tell she was powerful. Even looking at Wanda gave away the fact that she wasn’t completely normal. Loki, I had a guess of what to expect. With Wanda, I had nothing. All I knew was that she was dangerous.

Ironically enough, she was the first voice I clearly heard, snapping me out of my thoughts. She had stuck her head out the door and was looking down the hall at me.”

“Lily, we’re done discussing.”

I walked back into the room with them. Clint was still sitting, none too thrilled. Loki had a gleeful look. Everyone else in the room seemed neutral to whatever had happened, though Rogers was intensely staring at Clint. Probably willing him to not do anything stupid.

“Soo… This test. What is it?”

Loki grinned in a way that sent shivers down my spine. Crazy how such a normal expression can be so menacing from the wrong person. “It is a test of willpower and resolve.”

“And of adaptability,” Sam piped in. “We want to see how well you handle adverse situations that can rapidly change.” 

Well, that sounds downright cheery. “And Loki and Wanda are going to be the two testing me?” Several nods and yeses were muttered. “Am I allowed to get some information about them now, before the test starts?”

“Depends on what that information is,” Wanda said whilst sitting down. “We can’t give you too much before it starts.”

“Just one question, then. What’s your schtick?” 

The smile she gave me was equally as terrifying as Loki’s. Wanda opened her hand, palm facing up, red wisps emanating from it. With a sweep of the hand, the whisps moved around Thor’s mug, which was now on the floor by his feet, and lifted it up. “You’ll find the rest out later.”

I pursed my lips. Not a response I had been hoping for. “Where will I be doing the test?”

Rogers looked away from Clint and to me. “This base and the woods surrounding it. There’s a fence around the property perimeter. Anything in that fence is fair game.” He leaned back in his chair and returned to keeping an eye on my adoptive father.

“And when does it start?”

All eyes looked to Loki and Wanda. Wanda was looking at Loki, and Loki was looking at me with that god-awful grin. “You have thirty minutes to prepare. I do hope you can stay in control.”

My eyebrows shot up and I bolted out of the room. I had expected it to be soon, but not  _ that _ soon. And on top of that, Loki’s parting words were a whole new layer of worry on top of a stack of worry-pancakes. Telling me he hoped I’d be able to stay in control made it sound like he was planning to fuck with my head. Or maybe Wanda was. The fact of the matter was, I had no idea what the two of them were planning and it was bad news bears.

Clint  _ did  _ say something about Loki brainwashing him, so maybe that’s what he meant. If it was, then my best bets were to put some distance between us and hide out in the woods somewhere. To do that, I needed food.

I only had thirty minutes, and it took five of them to find the kitchens. Once I did get there, I grabbed some raspberries, cheese, bread, water, crackers, and a bag to stick them in. They were all things that could go at least a little bit without refrigeration, which is what I needed.

My next stop was the range Clint and I had been practicing in. I grabbed a knife in its sheath and attached it to my belt, but ignored the bow and arrows. Whatever this test ended up being, I wasn’t looking to kill anyone, nor was I planning to go hunting for deer. They just wouldn’t serve a practical enough use for how large they were. If push came to shove, a knife should serve me well enough.

The last thing I grabbed, this time from a storage room, was a bedroll. There was a watch sitting on the shelf next to it. Maybe not the best practice to just take something that isn’t yours, but I planned to return it after, and I’d need something to keep track of time while I was outside of the building. They got thrown in the bag, then I booked it out of the building.

The forest surrounding the base would be my best bet for hiding away. There wouldn’t be much in the way of a clear vantage point, but an eagle eye from the top of the tree would serve me well enough. It would be better than nothing, and certainly better than being out in the open.

I tried running the entire way to the tree line. Three minutes into running, I was huffing and puffing too hard and had to walk. Running had never been a strong suit. It would probably be added to the laundry list of things I needed to work on.

Once I  _ did _ get to the trees, I made my way off the path. It wasn’t dense enough where I would be able to get lost. Even on the off chance I did get lost, all I would have to do would be pick a direction and walk, or scream. I’d either find my way to a landmark, or people would find me. Still, it would be preferable if it didn’t come to that point.

I picked a tall tree and started shimmying my way up. It was while I was getting situated on a branch that the intrusive thoughts from hell slammed their way in.

_ You know he doesn’t care about you. _

_ Thanks, but not true, _ I thought back. I settled down on a branch some thirty feet up and scanned the area around me for movement. Nothing but birds in the leaves and small mammals in the underbrush. Perfect.

Maybe this could be a peaceful experience for me. I enjoyed avoiding people, and I enjoyed being in the woods. Why couldn’t it be a good time?

More uninvited thoughts ruined that sentiment.  _ You know they’re just using you. _

I shook my head like an etch-n-sketch to erase what had just popped into my mind. And in a male voice. Why a male voice? Any thoughts in  _ my  _ brain were usually in  _ my  _ voice.

Like an idiot, I sat pondering this for several minutes, until, ding dong, oh yeah! Loki! The entire reason I was up a tree outside a recreated World War Two base was because that asshole, and Wanda (whom I’m sure is a lovely person), wanted to put me through a test of wills. And, apparently, said asshole has telepathy.

_ They don’t care about you. _

A… woman’s voice? Must’ve been Wanda, considering the accent, which means she too has telepathy. Bad news for me. And how far did their abilities reach? Were they nearby? Far away? Did I need to be worried about a physical confrontation as well as a mental one?

My eyes darted around the area again. Nothing was moving, which was a good sign, if still a worrying one. It meant that they had either gotten close without me noticing, or their telepathy was a long-range affair. Neither possibility was a pleasant one.

I climbed back down the tree. Even if they were nearby, maybe I could lose them. Or, maybe I would get out of range of their abilities. But, one thing was for sure, and it was that I didn’t want to be the cat that got stuck up a tree with nowhere to go. That could be one of the worst scenarios in a situation like this.

So, me and my stuff continued on our decidedly not-so-merry way.

By now, the sun had begun to set. Judging by that, I was currently going north-eastish. I kept going that way for maybe ten minutes since it was slow going. The underbrush was surprisingly thick. But, it would at least provide decent cover while I was sleeping.

I located a nice little spot between a rock and a tree and pulled out my bedroll. With a little finagling, I managed to get it down without completely squishing all of the plants. To trample things would be to give them a neat little breadcrumb trail to my location. Based on what I had already experienced alone, that would just cause problems.

Not that it took a genius to figure that out.

I laid down some twenty minutes later when it was dark out, closing my eyes and trying to sleep- trying being the keyword here. The ground was hard and not very comfortable, and every rustle in the bushes stoked my paranoia. The only way it could’ve been worse was if it was a humid night. Had it been, I don’t think I would’ve slept at all.

But, after who knows how long tossing and turning as quietly as I could manage, sleep found me.

Sleep was just as much of a bitch as those thoughts were.

Images of Clint dead on the cobbled streets of Budapest plagued my dreams. It was like I was reliving it in high-definition, emotions and all. The gunshots. The screams of bystanders.  _ My _ screams. Terror coursing through every vein while I thought,  _ Am I gonna be next? _

Those nightmares eventually dissipated into something else I didn’t recognize. It was an operating room, one you would see on TV. In the center of the room was the standard metal table you put the patient on, but there was something else about it that was odd. The table had arm and leg restraints.

The restraints were holding someone down, too. There were three other people around them who were wearing masks, talking unintelligibly and wielding various medical tools. My vision started doing a TV-like zoom in towards the face of the person on the table.

I shot up in my bedroll before I could see their face, clammy and shivering. It wasn’t cold enough out to be shivering either.

I vigorously shook my head. Now was not the time to be focusing on such thoughts. Or nightmares. Or whatever.

It was still pitch black outside. I pawed around for the bag I grabbed, then rummaged inside for the watch. Though it didn’t take long to find, I realized I hadn’t grabbed a flashlight. Who the hell plans to hide out in the woods and doesn’t grab a flashlight?

Me, apparently. 

I sighed angrily and flopped backward, muttering, “Dumbass…” I turned my head to look at my hand holding the watch and realized my skin was faintly glowing. Like, something inside my hand had a light. I sat back up and opened my hand back up.

Hallelujah! The watch had a face light. It wasn’t overly bright, but rather a dim green that gave just enough light to be able to read the watch face. According to said watch, it was 4:58 in the morning. Goody me.

I went back into the bag and pulled out some food and a bottle of water. Cheese, bread, and raspberries weren’t much, but it would be something. Put the cheese on the bread with the raspberries on the side, and look at that! It was like some weird Studio Ghibli movie!

So there I sat, drinking my water and eating my sad little breakfast until the sun came up. Yes, I took way longer to eat than necessary, but the meal wasn’t all that appetizing and I was groggy. The little sleep I did get was some of the worst I had had in a while. Plus I wasn’t super hungry. Eating immediately after waking up was always a challenge for me. Then add an impromptu challenge of whatever the hell this was on top of that, the resulting anxious nerves only served to further hinder my appetite.

Not wanting to stay in one spot, I started packing up my stuff once I was done eating my cheese and bread. The bedroll went back in the bag, food over it. The watch went on my wrist, which was the logical place for it- versus, you know, the bottom of my bag. Knowing that the face of the watch lit up was certainly nice too. A green light was also far better than a white one. Green was harder to spot in the night.

I started walking aimlessly, using the sun to guide me. According to that, I was heading southeast. Back the way I came but at an angle. Sort of. Pretty much.

There were no voices in my head so far. Even so, it felt like something was pressing up against my consciousness, like there was a pressure in my skull. It wasn’t the same pressure as when I had a headache, but more like when I was squished in a small space with other things pressing against me. 

It made concentrating on an actual plan harder than it should’ve been. I shouldn’t stay in one place too long. Or should I? Was I just leaving them a snail trail to follow? Surely they wouldn’t be able to track me through so much foliage. Or would they? I knew little to none about any of them, save Clint.

Clint was notoriously bad at tracking people. If he knew them or had an idea of where they might go, he could find them, but actually do Aragorn-style tracing? Not a chance. As for the others, I hadn’t a damn clue. 

A hand gripped my shoulder. I whipped around and fumbled for the knife. It came out of the sheath, but not without almost falling to the ground. By the time I had turned around, gotten a firm grip on the knife, and had the knife raised at the person, they were leaning one shoulder against the tree, arms crossed. Blond-haired, blue-eyed, Hitler would’ve loved him, but he hated Hitler.

“Quite the startle reflex. You didn’t hear me coming?”

“Damn you, Rogers…” I muttered. The worst part was I  _ should’ve _ heard him coming. The entire point of me being off the trail was to be harder to spot and to hopefully notice them before they noticed me. Did it work? Not even close, and it wasn't like the man was in camo. Rogers was wearing a blue shirt the color of the sky and grey sweatpants. It didn't exactly blend in with greens and browns. 

He chuckled. It was irritating. Not smug, but just as bad. “It’s alright. I can be quiet for such a big guy. Put the weapon away?”

I begrudgingly did so. The test was against Loki and Wanda, not him. So, as much as I may dislike the guy thanks to school, there was no point in continually threatening him. “How come you tracked me down? I’m not going against you.” Unless he  _ was _ working with them, and that was just another thing that they had decided to keep from me. Like Wanda’s telekinesis.

“I wanted to check in on you,” he said. I looked him over, and nothing in his posture or tone led me to believe he was lying. Yes, he was leaning on a tree, but it spoke more of someone relaxed and unthreatened by the tiny girl with a two-inch knife. “Make sure you had what you needed to be okay out here, that sort of thing.”

Fair enough. Most people wouldn’t let the 16-year-old go gallivanting off to the woods by herself, much less before checking what she had planned to take with her. Even so, something about him was… off-putting. Steve Rogers read like a man who truly wanted to make sure I was okay, but something else was going on.

I needed to stall until I knew what it was. Stall, and not let him know I had become suspicious.

“So… Tell me about yourself.” I slung my bag over my back and started walking again. “It would be nice to learn about you from something other than a textbook. Hell, maybe I’ll even start to like you more.”

He laughed again. “I was born in Brooklyn on July 4th, 1918, and boy did I have a slew of medical issues.”

I had forgotten about that part. It was always such a minor footnote in what we covered about him. “They never really focus on that. Wasn’t there a eugenics movement going on at the time?”

I looked back as Rogers nodded. His eyes were in a far back place again. “Yeah, there was. Not ideal when you have severe asthma and your mom is a nurse, so you’ve had contact with just about every contagious disease under the sun. Polio sucked, let me tell you.” He paused, then added, “No matter what some might tell you, get your damn vaccines.”

My head snapped to him. “Did you just swear?”

A thin smile had crossed his lips. “I was born in Brooklyn just before the ‘20s and was in the military. Of course I do, I just try to not overdo it.”

Hm. Hypocrisy confirmed. Oh well.

“And Dr. Erskine’s the reason you went through whatever experiment you did?” I stopped and turned around, then leaned my back against a tree. Whatever was giving me an off feeling, I had realized, wasn’t going to be pinpointed if we were walking with my back to him. I needed to study him with my eyes, not ears

“He was. It hurt like a bitch, but it’s nice to breathe correctly and be able to tell the difference between reds and greens. The not constant pain is nice too.”

I laughed dryly. That would suck, on all counts. Dislike from him aside, the dude had a rough early life, and his life hadn’t exactly gotten any better as time went on. Truth be told, he was starting to grow on me. “Yeah, that would really blow.”

He nodded. We stood in silence for a minute. It felt painfully awkward until I thought of one question, and one that  _ was _ actually relevant.

“How come Clint hates Loki so much? More than the rest of you do, that is.”

Rogers sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Well… The short of it is that Loki had a scepter, which had the Mind Stone in it.” That was that thing they mentioned yesterday, though I didn’t dare interrupt him. “I wasn’t there when it happened, but apparently Loki used that scepter to, more or less, brainwash him. Clint killed a lot of people for Loki. He did the same thing to some other people, and apparently, the biggest telltale sign was their eyes change.”

_ Oh.  _ That’ll do it. “So he’d love nothing more than to slap Loki so hard  _ his _ eyes change color.”

Rogers laughed a genuine laugh, one that ended in a smile that crinkled the eyes, even if the smile disappeared mere moments after. “Yeah, pretty much.”

Then it hit me. By  _ god,  _ I was a moron for it to take me this long to notice.

No one’s eyes are that light of a blue with so little pupil. And after that little story about Clint? This could be bad on so many different levels.


	6. A True Test, Part Two!

Fear blasted through my body and my heart shot to my throat. My instincts screamed,  _ Run away bitch! _ while the logical side of me backhanded my instincts while yelling back,  _ Don’t be a moron! Stall and sneak away! _ A third and wholly unwelcome voice chimed in,  _ Knock him out. One good punch is all it will take. _ It took all my self-control and then some to keep all the panic on the inside.

Three different options, only two of them mine. Logic seemed like the right path to follow. Any fight or chase with Captain America himself was bound to not go well. A super-soldier versus some teenage girl? Teenage girl loses, no questions asked. Any route but stalling and watching for a way out would go wrong. Stalling would probably  _ still _ go wrong.

“So why is he around, then, when he caused so many issues before?” I turned back around and kept walking. 

Leaves crunched behind me. Rogers was definitely following. “Thor says we can trust him, and I’m inclined to trust Thor. Loki’s story was that he was being controlled by outside forces.”

Informative, to say the least… But Loki is a god of lies and trickery. Does that mean Rogers can’t be trusted? Or is this just another part of the test?

My heart was hammering in my ears. “The more you know.”

_ Just one swing, you can take him, _ the female voice said.

_ Thumpthump. Thumpthump. _

“He seems like he might be a decent person under whatever the hell led him to try taking over New York.”

I found a branch with my foot. The ground collided with my body before another  _ thumpthump _ could finish. My head smacked the dirt just hard enough to make the trees wave about for reasons other than wind. Rogers was mere feet from me, the branch still by my foot.

“Shit, kid, you okay?” He started crouching down, hand outstretched.

I groaned and pushed myself to my knees. “Yeah, just whiffed it…”  _ Now’s your chance.  _

Fuck it, there might not be another chance. I lunged for the branch and swung it as hard as I could for the backs of his knees. It made contact, and Rogers pitched forward.

_ Run while you have the chance! _ my brain screamed. I planned to listen- until I heard Roger's head hit the ground with a crack. My eyes went wide. 

He was unconscious on the floor. Terror made a resurgence in me. Was he dead? Concussed? Not dead but  _ going _ to die?

I got to my feet and crept over to him. He could be faking. He might be laying a trap.

I nudged him with my foot. He didn't move. Bad. 

I knelt next to him and listened for breathing. It was there, slow, steady, more regular than my current BPM. That was good. 

But what if he has a concussion?  _ It doesn't matter. Leave him there. _ No! Bad thoughts! I smack thee away with a wooden spoon. Or was that one of the other voices? I was losing track. Either way, I couldn't just leave him. It would be morally wrong and it would be on me if he got hurt further. "Teenage girl responsible for death of Captain America" was not a headline that needed to happen. 

So, I sat down several feet away from him with my stuff. The sun steadily rose while he just laid there like a limp biscuit. Or a dead body. A dead body that breathes still. 

He was lying there like an unconscious person. Which he was. 

A groan, some twenty minutes later while I was staring at my hands, came from Rogers.

_ It lives! _

_ Kill him now before you lose the chance entirely. _

I gently smacked my head a few times with the palm of my hand, as if that would magically rearrange whatever traitorous nerves and neurons decided to allow that thought to happen. The thought still gently floated between my ears like a placid TV screensaver.

“Damn kid, I didn’t expect that from you…” He said while pushing himself to his feet. I bolted up and grabbed the branch that had aided me in causing his unconsciousness in the first place. 

He looked at me and put his hands up at chest height, probably in an attempt to seem less imposing. It didn’t work. “I’m wearing contacts. We had contacts made to look like Clint’s when he was being controlled by Loki because we wanted to see how you’d react.”

I brandished the stick at him. “Prove it.” 

Rogers slowly brought one hand to his eye, and just like that, he popped out a contact. Seconds later, the other was out too. He extended his hand to me. I edged closer to peek into his hand, and sure enough, there were two colored lenses the same shade his eyes had been. A glance at his face, and his eyes were a normal blue color.

“I swear to god I didn’t mean to knock you out.”

A smile graced his lips. “No hard feelings. The super-soldier thing prevents concussions.”

That’s a relief. “Teen causes permanent brain damage in Captain America” was also a headline I really wanted to avoid for obvious reasons.

“Well… Want some food?” He nodded, and we sat back down. I handed him the container of raspberries. Rogers leaned back against a tree and popped a few in his mouth.

I sat there watching him snack for a few minutes while trying to gather my thoughts. He said he came out here to check in on me, but that obviously hadn’t been the full truth. They wanted to test my reaction. Okay, fine. I didn’t like it, but whatever.

However, it did make me worry just a bit more. “Was there anything else they sent you to do?” Considering “Just wanting to check in” turned into “Oh shit he might be dead,” It was a valid question.

Rogers swallowed his mouthful of fruit. “They do want you to head back to the base.”

I didn’t bother trying to stop the heavy, resigned sigh that came out of me. I didn’t want to go back there. The voices would probably get worse, or I’d discover more of their abilities because I was nearer them, or any other number of things. Maybe Loki would try shanking me. Perhaps Wanda would launch me into the sky via telekinesis. I didn’t know and I’m not sure I wanted to know. “Must I?”

_ Are you scared, Lily? _ one of the voices taunted. My mouth twitched. It was hard not to be.

The fruit container snapped closed. “You can’t stay out here forever.” His lack of a direct answer was answer enough. Either way, bread, fruit, and cheese are hardly enough to live off of. I would have to go back eventually anyway.

Anxiety continued to churn in my stomach. There was no telling what I would walk into. Loki could attack me, Wanda could attack me, the entirety of the Avengers could attack me. Not everything the test would entail was disclosed to me, so anything could happen in the barracks. I needed to be prepared, but not knowing what was coming made it impossible.

I checked the watch, which read a quarter past seven. If I started walking now, I could make it back around a quarter to eight.

“Where did you get that watch?” Rogers asked. I looked at him, then slipped it off and tossed it over to him. He caught it just before it hit the foliage.

“Found it in the storage room. Sorry if it’s yours, but I needed something to track time with.” I put the raspberries away, then stood up and slung the bag across my back. “I should go, since they’re expecting me. Sorry again for knocking you cold.”

Rogers waved a hand dismissively. “No hard feelings. It would be preferred if you went in through the front door.”

I nodded and started off. Being explicitly told to go in through the front door screamed trap, so that was off the table. There would have to be another entrance somewhere. Around back would probably be my best bet. If I could sneak in through there, then make my way towards to front entrance… Maybe I could ambush the trap.

The realization that sneaking in could prove challenging dawned on me as I approached the wide-open area around the barracks. Still, walking straight into lord-knows-what was a horrendous idea. Even if they, whoever they turned out to be, knew I was coming in from around back, maybe I could at least get a glimpse of what I was dealing with before it ended up on top of me.

So around back I went.

I set my bag of things down next to the door once I was inside. It wouldn’t do anything but get in the way from here on out. The building was eerily quiet. Had there been so much as a pipe dripping water ten feet down the hall, I would have heard it. The air was silent and pressing in on me.

_ One foot in front of the other, _ I thought. That was the only way I was going to make it to the entrance area. My heart was hammering away in my throat. Anyone could be around any corner or in any room. One step at a time I moved forward.

_ You’re nothing but a coward, who would love nothing more than to tuck tail and run, _ a voice taunted. It was smug, and I could envision the smirk that would have gone along with it, had the speaker been a physical form. Perhaps the intent was to make me turn and run away. Maybe part of the test was how well I worked under fear of what might be. I didn’t know. What I  _ did _ know was that all the voice succeeded in doing was to piss me off.

I picked up my pace. The fear hadn’t subsided in the least, no. It was just mixed in with anger now. I wanted to come face to face with that smug asshole and show him that I was strong enough to face whatever he had waiting for me. Any stand against him, so long as I could resist or get a hit in, would be satisfying.

My hand was on the hilt of the dagger as I went into the room. Whatever happened, I was ready to react.

I jumped as all but a handful of the lights shattered, raining glass fragments around me. What light was left in the room didn’t reach the corners, making it feel like I was in the middle of a horror movie. The only ones that were still working were the lights right above me in the center of the room.

“Lily, you’re here!” a voice said from the shadows next to me. I whipped out my knife and raised it towards the unseen speaker until it processed in my head that it was only Clint. It brought me  _ some _ relief, but the entire situation was still too eerie for me to return to complete ease. Nonetheless, I lowered the knife.

“What the hell is going on?” I asked as Clint stepped out of the shadows. “What’s with the theatrics? Can’t I just fight someone and have this over with?” I had to wonder how well he was able to understand me in this lighting, considering I know he still relied on lip-reading to help figure out what was going on.

He smiled a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. It wasn’t friendly, it wasn’t cruel, it wasn’t  _ anything _ . It was more like the soulless smile of an old porcelain doll than anything that should be on a human face. “You weren’t called to fight.” So he can understand me. Perfect. Now I was more worried about his expression. This wasn’t him, he never looked at me like that. “Some other people have come to see you.” He was never  _ menacing _ like this.

A hand clasped my shoulder from behind. “It’s been so long, Lily.”

My blood ran cold. It was a male voice, but not of anyone that I had met in the barracks. It was a voice I hadn’t heard in six years, and one I thought I was never going to hear again.

I yanked away and raised the knife so it was level with his chest. My hand shook as I gripped the knife harder. My father was holding a bottle of rubbing alcohol in one hand. He had more of a five-o’clock shadow than I remembered, which was in stark contrast to the clean and pressed shirt and dress pants he wore. His brown hair was shaggier too. The glint in his eye read curious malice just as much as I had remembered seeing.

“Get back!” I took a swipe at him with the knife. “I want nothing to do you with you!” My voice shook just as much as my hand did. This man was supposed to be in jail, but no. He was here, in front of me. I wanted to run away, be away, but he would easily catch me.

He pouted and held his arms open. “Do you not miss your papa?” In one smooth motion, those arms pulled me into a hug. Petrified fear prevented me from stabbing him, and the knife ended up flat between us, my face pressed against his chest. The scent of the rubbing alcohol and other chemicals burnt my nostrils.

“Let me go!” My voice was muffled by his shirt, but I was still able to push away. I backed up and swung around to face Clint again. “Why are they here?! How dare you let them be near me again!” Tears stung at my eyes. He knew better, he knew what they did to me.

Clint tilted his head as he looked at me. He looked.... disappointed. “I was hoping you’d be happier to see them. They wanted to see  _ you _ .”

My eyes darted around. Them?! As in plural?!

My fears were confirmed as my mother stepped out of the shadows next to Clint. Her short stature and curly red hair brought me just as much terror now as when I was little. “Honey, there isn’t anything to fear from us. We love you, we love you more than anything else.” Her words rang true in my ears if love were something disgusting that poisoned the souls and well being of people. I tried to glare at her, but tears began to flow freely down my face. She took several steps toward me. “We would love to have you live with us again.” It was then I realized she was holding a syringe in her hand, next to her waist.

The knife slipped from my grasp. I backed away towards a wall in a way I could see all three of them. The traitor and my parents. The man who was the closest thing I ever had to a real father, and the two people that happened to share my genetics. All three of them wished me nothing but harm disguised as love. My back hit the wall and I slid down it, shaking my head.

All three of them strode over to me. “Give me your arm, dear, this will only pinch for a moment,” my mother said.

I shook my head and took a sloppy swing at her. “Get the fuck away from me!” She took a step back, looking surprised, and I used that moment to lunge myself at her. My father and Clint rushed forward and grabbed me by either arm, pinning me back against the wall.

“Lily, she only wants to help,” Clint said. I didn’t give a damn and continued kicking and screaming at the top of my lungs. Surely  _ someone _ would hear me. Surely  _ someone _ would take pity and rescue me, just like Clint had those years ago.

And yet, as my mother approached me again, no one came. She sunk the needle into my forearm, and the world went black.


	7. There's Explaining to be Done Here

I shot upright, then winced. The lights were blinding. My head throbbed. Breakfast, or at least the last thing I ate, was threatening mutiny, though I couldn’t tell in which direction. The mattress under me was both rock hard and unpleasantly slouchy. Everything either hurt or felt queasy, and I wanted nothing more than to curl up into a ball until it all went away.

And then my eyes focused. I locked on to the red curls of my mother and launched myself off the side of the bed towards her. “You bitch!” I screamed. I wanted nothing more than to scratch her eyes out or cut her hands off. She deserved hell and then some.

Someone grabbed me around the waist. “Lily, it’s just Natasha! Calm down!”

I twisted away and spun around, coming face to face with Clint. “You! You can’t tell me  _ shit _ !” Not after bringing in my parents. Not after helping them. My body started shaking again, but not out of fear this time.

Despite this, Clint looked over my shoulder. His face read concern, but not anger. He read as though he wasn’t concerned by his betrayal. “I think you two pushed it too far.”

I turned back around to spot Loki and Wanda also in the room. Wanda was leaning against the doorframe. She, too, looked concerned. Loki, on the other hand, was sitting in the chair in the corner, elbows on his knees and chin resting on his hands, a sadistic grin on his face. He was taking joy in this.

Who I had thought was my mother was really just the woman. Their hair and size were similar enough that I had thought it was her. The woman’s eyes were widened ever so slightly, and she stood stiff with her hand on her holster.

She looked over Wanda. “What did you do that caused her to hate me so much more?” The woman didn’t keep her gaze off me for very long. Her eyes were scanning me up and down and scanning the area around me. I glanced next to the bed I had woken up in. There wasn’t so much as a nightstand with a lamp beside it. The rest of the room had several more beds, all of which looked the same as mine and lacked a nightstand. This probably was the hospital area originally. My hands felt by my side, and the knife wasn’t there. I was completely unarmed except for my arms themselves.  
Wanda just shrugged, either oblivious or uncaring of the pseudo-standoff between the woman and myself. “Couldn’t tell you. I just cause the hallucination, I have no idea what happens during it.” She looked over to Loki, who was still watching with rapt fascination.

“Her mother was a redhead with curly hair and short frame,” he said. “She saw Barton betraying her and giving her up to her parents.” His green eyes were staring into my soul. I shuddered. To say it was merely unnerving would be an understatement.

“You two talk like what I just went through didn’t actually happen.” Wanda said she causes hallucinations, and Loki spoke as though he was an observer from outside a window, instead of being in the room or not there at all. “So what the hell is going on here?”

Wanda bit her lip and looked down. “Part of the test was testing your reaction to your biggest fear. I can force someone into a vivid, life-like hallucination of exactly what they fear most. I came up behind you when you were in the middle of the room and put you in the hallucination.” She paused, then added. “I couldn’t quite catch you before you hit the floor.”

So that’s why my head hurt.

Still, it hardly explained everything. “If it was all a hallucination, then how does Loki know what I was seeing?”

“I can see memories of others if I touch their forehead. Typically, it sends them into that memory, but as you were currently living it…” He didn’t stop staring at me, but his grin did falter. “Easy enough. Everything from the shattering lights onward was all in your head.”

I sighed shakily and sat back down on the bed. Clint didn’t actually betray me and my parents weren’t actually in the room. That was all good news, but it didn’t change that they willingly put me through that. I glanced to Clint. He had what could’ve been described as sad puppy eyes. “You know I wouldn’t ever let them get you again. I made that promise to you when I took you in.”

I shrugged and laid back down. At least he felt bad about it. It did make me feel better.

The light streaming in from the windows in the wall across from me, paired with the white light of the fluorescent ceiling lights, continued boring a headache into my skull. I rolled over and covered my head with a pillow. The bed next to me shifted as someone sat down next to me.

“I hope you guys know you all suck.”

Whoever sat next to me sighed. “Lily, if you’re saying something, you need to roll over so I can at least read your lips.” So Clint, Clint was next to me.

I did roll over, though I kept the pillow over my eyes. “You guys suck.” The entire test sucked, and the last part of it easily could’ve been considered torture. But hey. At least they know exactly what terrifies me most and that my response to it is screaming and thrashing. That makes it all better, right?

Wrong.

Whatever their reasons or how good they were, at least it was over. I didn't have to think about my parents, or  _ needles _ , which scared me just as much. Getting my vaccines involved two nurses to distract me plus the doctor, and even then I had crazy nausea and fainted half the time. There was even one memorable occasion where I threw up on the doctor.

The only thing I had left on my mind was where everyone else was. What the test would be was apparently something discussed amongst all of them except Clint, so why weren’t they here to examine the end product?

“Steve and Thor are in the labs watching what Bruce and Tony are working on.” Wanda speaking made me jump and pull the pillow away from my face. I had entirely forgotten about her telepathy. The pounding of my headache had hidden the fact that I no longer had two other voices pressing in on my thoughts. That was also going for me. “Sam is out with Vision taking care of a threat elsewhere.”

I had no idea whoever this Vision dude was, and at this point, not one part of me cared. “So, just to make sure I have all of this straight… You have telepathy, some weird mental fear thing, and telekinesis. Loki has telepathy and, assuming the myths are true, illusions?” Aside from the whole eye thing with Rogers and some of the wholly unwelcome voices in my brain, Loki didn’t really do much with the test. Even now, he was just sitting there, looking menacing. Wanda did the brunt of the work. “Also, what day is it?”

“Midday of the same day you knocked Steve out,” the woman piped in. “To be honest, I’m impressed.”

Loki did a small nod, which surprised me. He was a god, and an arrogant, standoffish, asshole one at that, but even he seemed impressed, if only mildly so. “Illusions  _ are  _ my main thing, but I did gain some abilities after my exposure to the Mind Stone.” There was that Mind Stone again. What the hell was it? A magic space rock? My confusion reached my face, apparently, because he kept talking. “It’s one of six infinity stones and was in a scepter that had been gifted to me. With that scepter, I was able to change the loyalties of others towards me.”

Peachy. Clint was glowering next to me and attempting murder with his eyes. Opting to ignore him was the best choice to avoid a brawl. I was too emotionally exhausted to deal with it.

“Then Wanda could’ve done the test herself. You had no reason to be involved.”

Loki sat up straight, then leaned back in the chair. The lazy grin had returned in full. “Who else would come up with such a test for you?”

So he was a sadistic bastard too. Good to know. At least Wanda seemed to feel bad about it. She wouldn’t look directly at me or Clint, instead seeming to find endless fascination with the wood wall behind me. 

The woman sat down in the other chair against the wall. “What matters now is that we know what puts you into a panic and how you react in that situation. We can use that to better train you.”

I rolled my eyes. It didn’t matter how true what she said was, it rubbed me the wrong way. “Whatever. Is the test fully over now?”

Wanda nodded, and that was a good enough response for me. I pulled the pillow back over my eyes. Despite everything being over, my heart rate hadn’t calmed down in my chest. It wasn’t hammering away still by any means, but it was  _ just _ elevated enough to not be right.

Breakfast started gurgling more in my stomach, and I got the telltale feeling like my throat was closing up. I sat up and looked at Clint. “Ah, where’s the bathroom?”

“Down the hall to the left, third door on your left.”

I nodded it and got out of the wretchedly uncomfortable bed, booking it down the hall and into the bathroom. Ten seconds later and on my knees, holding my hair back, I was heaving into the toilet.

It isn’t a pleasant experience, tossing your cookies. It’s even less pleasant when it’s partially fear-induced. After heaving for what felt like an eternity, I leaned back and tilted my head back to look at the ceiling. The day just kept getting worse and worse.

I’m not sure how long I was in there. The heaves eventually gave way to dry heaves. A small improvement. Still, someone clearing their throat in the doorway nearly had me jumping out of my skin.

“I brought you some ginger tea. It should help.” Even before looking at my surprise visitor, the voice was unmistakably Loki’s. Why the hell he was the one checking in, much less trying to ease my nausea, was beyond me. His entire demeanor in the time I had been around him was arrogance and uncaring. And yet, here he was, caring. I didn’t trust him, not fully, but if he had something that would make me feel not quite so shitty, it would be insane to turn him away. 

I  _ ginger _ -ly (ha, see what I did there?) took the tea from him. It warmed my hands and the steam carried the unmistakable fragrance of its ingredients. “What possessed you to care all of the sudden?” I sipped the tea, unsure of how hot it would be. It wasn’t terribly so, but it also wasn’t terribly delicious. Teas had never been up my alley. They were always too light in flavor unless the tea in question was some kind of apple spice. This wasn’t following that suit, and I was rather fond of ginger, but this was overly strong in the taste. The sensation almost felt like it was burning my throat on the way down. At least this tasted better than the green teas I’ve tried in the past. Those always tasted metallic.

Loki stood back in the doorway. “I saw your terror when confronted by your parents. It was expected of you to be afraid, but neither Maximoff nor myself expected that level of fear.”

He watched me continuing to sip the drink. I couldn’t quite tell what was behind his face or what he was thinking. Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe I didn’t want to know. That being said, he didn’t have the same expression as earlier. That god awful grin was gone.

The queasiness in my stomach finally started to lessen. I opened my mouth to thank him, but there was a noise down the hall. Not in the direction I had come from, but the other side of the hall. Loki turned around and watched for whatever caused the noise. At the sound of objects crashing to the floor, I burst to my feet.

We both raced down the hall towards the commotion, the other three from the hospital wing right behind us. All five of us burst into the lab to see what chaos had already occurred.

Three people- Dr. Banner, Stark and Thor- were on the floor, shattered glass all around them. Three different lab benches had been flipped over by a mysterious force, their lab equipment pitched across the floor and in pieces. Only one person remained standing.

Rogers had his back to us, standing off to a man dressed in black with a shockingly red face. Not like sunburn-red, but vividly, shockingly red on a skull-like face. He was the color of a cola can. It took my brain an embarrassingly long time to connect the dots from what pictures we had of him in my history classes. 

“How did you survive, Red Skull?” Rogers had one hand resting on his hip. A knife, likely, but I couldn’t see it. His other hand rested on the upturned leg of a table. “I watched you die.”

“On the contrary, Captain!” Red Skull wasn’t making a move at all. His posture was the straight-up of a military man but otherwise seemed completely at ease. “The Tesseract took me away to a far corner of the universe, but it made me more powerful in the process.”

Rogers took his knife and charged Red Skull. Everyone but Loki and I joined in the attack. It was four against one, surely it would be an easy win.

Except that it didn’t go in any way I had ever expected.

There were several bright, damn near blinding lights, and then everyone was gone. Rogers, Clint, the woman, Wanda, the two on the floor. Poof. Just like that. Only Loki and myself remained standing in the room, dumbstruck.

The only notable thing remaining in the room with us was what appeared to be a singular portal right where Red Skull had stood. On the other side was a barren landscape of nothing but ice pillars and snow. A cold breeze blew past us.

Loki stared into the portal with a steeled expression. He didn’t seem to like it any more than I did. It beckoned for us to enter,  _ daring _ us to step through. The portal was, with almost absolute certainty, a trap.

It was a trap, but I was alone with a god that I didn’t trust in the slightest. The only other people who could help were off the base somewhere. Red Skull had everyone else, including Clint. He had been back in my life for less than two days, and he was already gone again. Maybe permanently.

I blinked back tears and willed myself to stay strong. Now was not the time to cry. 

“I don’t know where the hell that thing leads,” I said to Loki, “but we don’t have many options unless we wait for Sam and the other dude they mentioned.”

Loki shook his head. “You would freeze to death in your current clothes in Jotunheim, never mind that the portal is one of the most obvious traps I have ever seen.” His voice dripped with judginess like he could do much better. Frankly, Loki probably could. “We can leave a note for them explaining what happened and where we went.”

The mention of Jotunheim stirred something in my memory, but my Norse mythology was rusty. What concerned me more was wherever he wanted us to go. “And we would be meeting with him where?”

“Asgard. Once he is with us, we can go to Jotunheim.”

Asgard was a name I  _ did _ recognize and remember. Something about it being home to the gods in Norse mythology. It would be better to head there than that icy hellscape beyond the portal, but once again, it was me and Loki. There was no reason to trust them. Plus, all of this was  _ way _ beyond my wheelhouse. Asgard, Jotunheim, Red Skull? Fuck that noise.

But, at the same time, Clint was in danger. The others were in danger. There wasn’t much of a choice in it for me, not if I wanted to see them alive again. I turned to Loki and asked, “How do we get there, and when?”

Loki strode outside. His legs were tall enough and his pace fast enough that I had to go at a light jog to keep up. “The Bifrost. Heimdall will open it for us.” He stopped in the entry area where I had hallucinated the appearance of my parents. A notepad sat on a table along the wall next to a pen. Loki grabbed both and scrawled a quick note, then ripped off the piece of paper. When we both stepped outside, he closed it in the door so what had been written could be read.

As for what Loki said, I didn’t recognize enough of those words to fully understand whatever Loki had planned as the next course of action. “Hold up, the what and who? And if we’re going to go storming into wherever, I need to at least have some weapons!”

He stopped in the middle of a grassy area. “You can equip yourself at the palace armory.” Loki tilted his head to the clear blue sky and yelled “Heimdall, open the Bifrost!” Not three seconds later, rainbow colors engulfed us.


	8. Chapter 8

The feeling of falling hit me at the same time as the feeling of shooting upwards. My body could tell it was moving in this strange rainbow tube, but it wasn’t entirely sure in what  _ way _ it was moving. Nausea once again graced me with its presence, and I briefly wondered if I would get yelled at for hurling mid-travel.

Then, just like that, I hit the ground. Unfortunately, I didn’t hit it with my feet.

Instead, I landed on my shoulder and slid about three feet across a circular metal floor of some sort of domed room. Loki- who evidently had more grace than me, as he was on his feet- watched as I pushed myself into a sitting position. I looked at him and muttered, “A warning would’ve been nice...”

He waved his hand dismissively. “Perhaps you should do more reading on the old gods.” Loki then turned to a man, who made  _ him  _ look short and was standing behind a sword slotted inside some sort of mechanism at the center of the room, and spoke again. “Thank you, Heimdall.”

This man, Heimdall, merely nodded. “Of course, Prince Loki.” He had striking gold eyes that matched his golden armor and were made all the more noticeable by his dark skin, which was the color of rich, wet earth. “I trust you have a good reason for bringing a Midgardian along.”

Loki nodded but looked back to me “Get up, Lily. We need to be off to the armory.” Then, just like that, he started walking. No explanation of what the hell happened, no proper introduction of who Heimdall was, nothing. I bit back a rude remark and got to my feet, smiling at Heimdall before fast walking to keep up with Loki.

Stepping out of the room we arrived in was breathtaking. We were on a bridge that was colorful in the same way the rainbow tube was, just with more icy blues between the other colors. Below us, there was nothing but an expanse of sky blue until at least fifty feet ahead, where a waterfall gave way to choppy waters. Above us was more blue sky with puffy clouds floating languidly across. Ahead of both Loki and I, beyond the beginning of this rainbow bridge, was what looked like a city. It would’ve been a fantasy writer or producer’s dream to see and create something like what I saw. 

It was hard to see details, due to the distance, but buildings sprawled out across the landscape and into the mountains surrounding a giant golden palace. The palace looked like a giant mountain in its own right, given its triangular shape with a great number of what might’ve been towers forming close-knit peaks. The actual mountains surrounded everything like a protective barrier. Though there were buildings on the sides of the mountains, it was like the entire area was in a crater that formed a safe haven. To say I was stunned by the beauty would be an understatement.

Loki, on the other hand, seemed far less enchanted by the surroundings. Perhaps it was because he grew up on Asgard. He looked straight ahead and straight ahead only, and I noticed one fist was clenched by his side. Something had happened here, though whatever it was, I didn’t know and he likely wouldn’t tell me.

“So… That rainbow tube thingy, that was the Bifrost?”

He nodded, still staring straight ahead. “Yes, and so is this bridge we’re standing on now.” Despite his clenched jaw and pained expression, he wasn’t answering my question with any sort of disdain or condensation in his voice. “Heimdall is the keeper of it and the watcher. He keeps an eye on everything in the universe, and when Ragnarok begins, he shall blow his horn.” There was yet another word that had exactly zero meaning to me, but at least now I knew for certain how we had arrived.

We fell into silence and continued walking for some minutes until we got off the bridge. From there we weaved our way through the town, following the main road. Townsfolk eyed me curiously, my clothing as odd to them as theirs was to me. If they weren’t in armor, such as some of the guards we passed, then they were in dresses or tunics much like something you would expect to see in a Lord of the Rings film. It was as if I had taken a step into the past, back to a time when the Norse Pantheon was still widely worshipped.

I suppose, in a way, I had.

Despite the obvious odd looks I got, they were friendlier than the looks Loki received. The people looked at him as though he had done some terrible deed that he should be eternally imprisoned for. Back on Earth he had for sure, but he had apparently done something here too that I was unaware of. It seemed better not to ask. Loki seemed no more at ease now, in the city limits, than he did back on the Bifrost.

After maybe twenty minutes, we reached the palace doors. As we approached, the guards stepped in our way, crossing their spears to bar entrance.

“Midgardian’s are not allowed in the palace, Prince Loki,” the one on the left said. His eyes were trained on me in a way that wasn’t wholly appreciated on my end.

Loki’s mouth twitched as he stared down both of them. “As the Prince of Asgard, I order you to stand aside and let us pass.” His voice carried a force that just about anyone would listen to. These two guards, unfortunately, were seeming to be an exception to that. They merely shared a look, then fixed their gaze on Loki.

“We have our orders from the king,” the one on the right said. “After the invasion by the Dark Elves, he wants no mortal to step foot in the palace. It would like;y be best if  _ you _ weren’t here either, given your propensity for trouble.”

I sighed. Yet more things I didn’t understand, and now, they were influencing my ability to save people that were in potentially lethal danger. All because I wasn’t some immortal god after some shit, which I wasn’t a part of, went down. And their disrespect towards Loki. What was that about? Sure, he causes problems, he isn’t widely regarded as a god of mischief for nothing, but such blatant disrespect towards the prince? It made me think that he was the source of a number of issues on Asgard too. He was in the old myths, anyway.

Loki was about to open his mouth, presumably to light off the guards, when a woman spoke from behind us. “I can vouch for both of them. Let us in.”

The guard on the left stuttered but did not move. “Lady Sif, you know Prince Loki’s antics better than most, and no one knows who this girl is.”

Both Loki and myself turned around. Standing between us was a woman who easily had a half a foot of height on me. One could easily describe her as gorgeous- what with the lean frame, striking eyes, and long dark hair that had been pulled back- but it would be a disservice to do so. The most striking thing about her was the aura she gave off. She stood straight as a frame, but not stiffly so. Her body was strong, able, clearly that of a fighter. Her silvery metal and red leather armor didn’t cover all of her body, but it was  _ practical _ . There was none of this sexy bikini armor nonsense. No. Lady Sif could, would, and almost certainly  _ had _ taken men down in that armor.

“Do I need to repeat myself?” She took a step forward, staring them down,  _ daring _ them to say something more. The intimidation worked, as when I turned around, the guards were opening the doors to let us in. Loki and Lady Sif looked at one another, and Loki actually nodded at her in appreciation.

Loki led us inside. The palace had just an as ornate and beautiful interior as it did an exterior. Gorgeous stone flooring, decorated wall sconces… The full nine yards. Had the situation not been what it was, I would’ve wanted to run around and explore the entire place. There was so much to be seen, but alas, now was not the time to see it.

Lady Sif looked at Loki as we went through a door to a deeper part of the castle. “Loki, what has brought you here with such urgency?” Her voice was marked by the telltale sign of concern as we walked through the first halls I had seen that had grey brick walls, more akin to what I would expect to see in an old European castle.

“Thor and his Midgardian friends were captured by someone who is apparently supposed to be dead.” He didn’t sound as concerned, more irritated than anything else, but he also didn’t look at Lady Sif. “I believe they were taken to Jotunheim, given what the poorly laid out trap was.”

We went through another door, and the air jumped up about fifteen degrees. The large room held racks for weapons and stands for armor, almost all of which were filled to capacity. In the back left corner, there was a forge and anvil. A man stood next to them, inspecting what looked like a shortsword.

“Loki, surely you aren’t bringing the girl there.”

He sighed and turned to face both her and me. I felt my mouth twitch and shot her a look. “Listen, lady. I appreciate the fact that you helped us get here, but he isn’t the only one who has family missing because of some jackass that’s supposed to have been dead for 70 years or so.”

Despite my words, she laughed. “You have a fire to you.” Lady Sif looked back to Loki, uncaring of the fact that I was prepared to light off on you. She quickly had an aura of seriousness once again. “I’ll come with the two of you. Tricks may only do so much, especially with someone untrained. Kufri, we require weapons and armor!” she yelled to the man, who was behind Loki.

The man, Kufri, walked over. He looked at me and said, “I’ll need to take a few measurements.” I nodded and let him go about his work, adjusting as needed so he could measure me.

Lady Sif looked back at Loki. “Do you know where in Jotunheim they might be?”

Loki shook his head. “No, I do not.” Lady Sif opened her mouth to say something more, but he held up a hand to stop her. “Yes, I know how large Jotunheim is, but the giants would certainly know. They wouldn’t miss that many people being brought into their realm.”

Kufri finished his measuring and looked at me. “Do you have any experience with armor or swords?” I shook my head, and he pursed his lips. “Hm. Do you have experience with  _ any  _ weapons?”

This time I nodded. “Knives, and bows. Sorta. My bowmanship isn’t all that great anymore.”

He nodded, more to himself than anything else, and walked off to the armor racks. Lady Sif continued the conversation.

“And what makes you think they’ll tell us?” she asked. “You killed their king the last time we had contact with them. I doubt they’ll take kindly to us.”

Loki just grinned. Once again, I found myself worried about what Loki was planning. Lady Sif, on the other hand, merely sighed. Whatever he had on his mind, she knew what it wasn’t and wasn’t surprised. I wasn’t sure if that was more or less reassuring.

Before I could ask for clarification for both the plan and whatever the hell happened that led to Loki being a king murderer, a voice behind me made me jump.

“Loki. You’re back again.” I turned around to face the speaker and came face to face with a white-haired man with a matching beard, and an eye patch. He didn’t seem all too pleased with Loki. As a matter of fact, he looked borderline angry. “You should know you’re not welcome here after your escape.”

I stepped away so I wasn’t in between this man and Loki, because anger was just as much in Loki’s eyes too.

“Listen,  _ Odin _ ,” he began, malice burning in his eyes, “Thor is missing, and as much as I despise that brainless oaf, he at least  _ tried _ with me, unlike you.” Loki took a step forward to stare Odin down. “I don’t care that you raised me as your son because you never really treated me like one.”

Despite the verbal spittle flying from Loki, Odin’s response was calm as could be. “Your mother and I-”

Loki sneered. “Don’t you  _ dare  _ bring her up! Just because she loved me doesn’t mean it’s redeeming towards you!” His face was red and contorted into something far more horrifying than old depictions of Satan or demons.

I took a small step back, lest I breathe wrong and find myself at the receiving end of that attention. Clint angry at the old army base was bad enough, but this? So much worse could happen if I got caught up in a fight between two gods.

Lady Sif, on the other hand, had no such fears. She cleared her throat, then spoke. “All-Father, I can keep watch on both Loki and the mortal as we go through Jotunheim, but more than just your son was taken.” She moved her eyes between both Loki and Odin without fear of either of them diverting their anger or disappointment to her. “With him are mortals that won’t survive long in the realm of ice.”

Odin eyed the three of us, then sighed a great sigh. “Very well. But if  _ anything _ -” he shot a pointed look to Loki- “should happen that puts the peace of the Nine Realms at risk, all three of you will be facing charges.” On that cheery note, he walked out of the room.

Loki took several deep breaths and turned away from us. He didn’t seem like the type to lose his composure, so to witness such anger… There was a long history of bitterness between them, I figured. Not that I would ask. It wasn’t my place to pry, and he very well could lash out at me if I did.

The smithy, Kufri, walked back over to us, averting his eyes from Loki. “Miss, if I could help you get these on…” In his hands were a purple cloak and what appeared to be a leather chest plate. I nodded, and with some doing (who knew a chest plate had so many straps and buckles and wrong places to stick an arm?) we managed to get both on my body over my shirt. He then picked up boots and pants and handed them to me, saying, “I trust you can get these on by yourself. Behind the curtain to your left.”

Sure enough, looking to my left, there was a simple brown curtain hanging from a wrap-around bar. I went behind it and changed into the other clothing he had given me. It was certainly meant for cold weather. He even included a rather nice pair of gloves. No sooner than I had it on did I begin to sweat. Still, if Jotunheim was the realm of ice, as Lady Sif had mentioned, and given that cold breeze from the portal… It was likely for the best.

I stepped out of the small changing area. “Well, let’s not waste time. To Jotunheim?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading as far as you have. Truly. However, given what’s gone down in this chapter, I do have a few things I would like to address.
> 
> I’m well aware that I’m changing some of the events that happened in _Thor: The Dark World_. This is because, otherwise, my original plot for this story wouldn’t work. So, essentially, what happened is Frigga still died, but Loki only impersonated Odin for a short while before Odin escaped Loki’s magic or what have you and Loki, presumably, fled. That or Thor bargained for Loki to not be put back in prison. As it isn’t the main focus of the story, I haven’t put too much thought into it.
> 
> Going forward, I will continue trying to preserve what I can for canon to a point, but certain things will still be changed. I think _Avengers: Age of Ultron_ was the last movie to be released when I was working on this story originally, so anything past that is free game for me to do as I want. Until then, I’ll do my best to keep what gets changed to smallish things.


	9. Over the Bridge and Through the Tube, to Jotunheim We Go

We walked back to the Bifrost, purpose in our step. If I’m being quite honest, there was murder in the stride of at least two of us. Lady Sif, I wasn’t sure about, but Loki and I? Oh yes. I was damn well determined to get Clint back or die trying. The others too. Loki, as much as he had said he hated Thor earlier, appeared just as ready to kill for him as I was for Clint.

Walking back to the rainbow bridge took about as long as it had the first time around, and everything in me screamed for us to move faster. Every moment wasted in travel was a moment that they could be killed. But, we did get to the golden circular room once again. 

Heimdall looked at us and asked simply, “Where would you like to go, my prince?”

“Jotunheim.”

For reasons beyond me, Heimdall sighed as if they had been down this route before. Perhaps they had. Still, he took the sword off his back and plunged it into the switch in the middle of the room. In an instant, Lady Sif, Loki, and I were sucked into the magical rainbow tube of traveling. The same feeling in my stomach from before came back. It didn’t do any wonders for my sense of nausea this time either. At least I didn’t feel  _ as _ close to ralphing. 

Streaks of every color whisked past us. It was pretty, but that prettiness was soon gone, replaced by the cold bleakness of Jotunheim. Luckily for me, I only stumbled upon landing, and therefore didn’t get a faceful of snow and ice.

Loki and Lady Sif shared a look.

“It’s just like the last time…” she said, “except in worse condition.” She ended her sentence with a pointed look at Loki.

“I was trying to make a point and put myself in the good graces of the All-Father,” Loki said through clenched teeth. Whatever it was she was referencing, Loki wasn’t enjoying the memory of it, and started walking.

It was a good thing he seemed to know where we were going. The wind blew bitter and biting, threatening to get through my warm Asgardian clothing. Jotunheim felt like the place where, if you got lost, you would die here, destined for nothing but mummification from the elements.

The structure we eventually arrived at was, unsurprisingly, a giant ice castle. Think if Elsa wasn’t such a good person and instead meant to freeze over Arendell. Now, pepper in how an old abandoned house looks, but modified for an ice structure- crumbling walls, chunks of tower’s missing, the general feeling of nobody being welcome. That was what we had just come upon. A shiver completely unrelated to the wind and cold ran down my spine.

Loki, the madman he was, waltzed right in like it wasn’t a one way trip to instant death. Nope. Just a casual little jaunt into this nifty looking castle. Lady Sif followed him without so much as a moment of hesitation. The only reason  _ I _ didn’t hesitate was because I didn’t want to get left behind and face lord knows what on my own. That would be a one-way ticket to a death that I’d rather not experience.

If I’m going to be murdered, I at least want to be in my homeworld around normal human people.

For all his confidence and swagger, Loki seemed to have no idea where we were going. We wandered with only the occasional pause to decide what direction to turn. The only reason we actually came to a stop was a voice literally yelling, “Stop!” from behind us.

Loki grinned and turned on his heels to voice the speaker. Lady Sif seemed less chipper about turning around, and I got behind the both of them before facing whoever was there. Let them go through the gods before getting to the squishy mortal girl.

The person looked just like a human or Asgardian, but with frosty blue skin and red eyes. On her face were either scars that formed bumps or some sort of paint that formed what looked like tribal markings. She- and I assumed it was a she purely based on the pitch of the voice- held a sword in one hand and had her eyes fixed on Loki. If eyes could kill, all three of us would be dead where we stood.

As a matter of fact, the only person who seemed pleased about this meeting was Loki, and, knowing him, that very well could’ve been faked.

“What brings you to Jotunheim, Loki, after you dare murder my husband for one of your power-hungry tricks?” she sneered. Her eyes flicked behind us, and I glanced over my shoulder to spot two more blue frost giants approaching us. Bad news bears for me, considering that gave me no good spot to hide from a potential sword fight. Daggers wouldn’t do much against trained swords… giants? Point is, I didn’t have the skill to survive any sort of fight.

They were also much,  _ much _ bigger than I. All three of them were easily over six and a half, seven feet tall. I was  _ maybe _ an even 5’3” if I happened to have a growth spurt recently. They made both Loki and Lady Sif look small and insignificant, and neither of them were tiny like me.

Loki chuckled and held his hands out. “Well, Laufey did try to kill the All-Father.” He spoke with a candor and ease that made it seem as though we weren’t at a high chance of decapitation or freezing. “That would plunge the Nine Realms into chaos and, really, I couldn’t let that happen Mother.” Well, that explains why she doesn’t like him.

She growled and raised her sword. It glimmered in the almost non-existent light in a way that made me realize it was really just shaped ice. “So you kill  _ our _ king!” The giants behind us were creeping closer. I gently tugged on Lady Sif’s leather armor.

She turned around, then cursed under her breath and bent down some to whisper into my ear, “Whatever happens, don’t let them touch your skin.”

Ominous. Ominous equals bad. Bad, in this context, equals dangerous far beyond anything I ever wanted to deal with. 

Lady Sif stood back up and stepped in front of me. Her eyes remained fixed on the two giants in front of us. Yet, somehow, I didn’t feel any safer. I turned partially so I could watch both people I came to this damn place with.

“Spit out your reason for coming, Loki,” the giantess said. The fact that she was still talking, instead of attacking, was a surprise. Her sword was still up, ready to slice, but hadn’t moved since she raised it from her side. “I, Farbauti, Queen of Jotunheim, demand it!”

“Believe it or not, it wasn’t a family reunion.” He paused and tilted his head in thought. “Well, actually, it kind of is.” Loki turned around to address the two giants behind him, then back to the giantess that was apparently his mother. “I have reason to believe Thor and some of his friends are being held captive here on Jotunheim. By a third party, of course.”

Farbauti eyed us, then smiled. It didn’t reach her eyes. “I do know of whom you speak. We were promised aid and power for helping the rather… interesting mortal, and giving him a place to take refuge.” Why the  _ hell _ would anyone choose this place for refuge? “Why should we trust you over him?”

Her pause and word choice made it obvious, to me at least, that she was talking about Red Skull. Interesting wouldn’t be my word of choice for him, but hey. We all call genocidal bastards something different.

“Listen, your majesty.” The only reason I called her that was to avoid a potentially fatal insult. “Red Skull doesn’t give a damn about you, believe me. You know what he is back home on…” What did they call me? A Midgaurdian? “On Midgard?” Lord, I hope that’s right. “A mass murderer, a genocidal, power-hungry dictator who was obsessed with Norse mythology and wanted nothing more than to take over my realm. He wants to do nothing but that for the other realms too, I promise you. Red Skull doesn’t share leadership.”

Not all of that was true. I wasn’t even sure how much of it I had gotten right. Fuck, I didn’t know if I had even called Earth the right thing. Even so, I knew with enough certainty to be confident that Skull would use them. Crazy people from back home never seemed to want to share power. And, even if Skull was willing to, if only for a short while, they didn’t need to know that. The situation just needed to be diffused so we could be on our merry freezing way.

Farbauti silently considered what I had said. “Is that true, little Midgardian?” I did my best to look at her in her cold, red eyes and nodded. “He did neglect to mention taking one of the Asgardian royal family hostage…”

“My queen, you can’t be considering letting them go free!”

Her eyes flashed dangerously as her head snapped to look at the giant that spoke. “Silence! We cannot handle a war against Odin’s army.” Farbauti’s demeanor quickly changed to… not necessarily nice, but a cool pleasantry that meant she wasn’t immediately thinking about putting our heads on stakes outside the palace gates. “Head west, and you will find a cave. They are being held in cells there.”

Lady Saf bowed. “Thank you, Queen Farbauti, for your kindness.”

The queen laughed. “Don’t try to flatter me with such falseness. I help only to avoid war. Get out of the palace before I change my mind.” We started scurrying for the front gate and she spoke again. “Oh, and if you’re caught in Jotunheim again… You will be killed on sight.”

We picked up our pace to just short of running, but by god, we were alive. It was more than I had thought would happen after she raised that sword.

So we were back outside in the blistering cold. The wind had picked up since our brief time inside too. I pulled the cloak hood up and bowed my head so the wind wasn’t blowing quite so hard in my face. Even so, I could still feel my nose hairs freezing with each breath in. They promptly defrosted with each exhale.

Nobody spoke for some time. All three of us were more worried about getting to wherever the others were being held in one piece. The ground was icy in most places and a thin layer of snow in various patches disguised that face. Add to that the unevenness of the terrain… It was a broken tailbone just waiting to happen.

After what felt like an eternity, we came to a stop and I looked up. In front of us was a cave, just as Farbauti had said there would be. I silently congratulated myself for not slipping and eating shit at any point on the way over.

“I would assume this to be it,” Loki said. His gaze was focused on the entrance, expression unreadable. Lady Sif, on the other hand, looked grim. I couldn’t say I blame her. She didn’t know what we could be walking into, be it Red Skull or giants. I didn’t know either, but it would have to be dealt with once we got inside.

The opening of the cave had a slight decline, one that I didn’t notice until my feet were no longer under me and I was sliding down snow and ice on my back. I groaned and Loki chuckled. “Watch your step, Midgardian.”

I humored him with no verbal response. Instead, I opted to give him the finger. I’m sure he knew what it meant, and if he didn’t, he could figure it out.

Lady Sif was the decent person of the two of them and helped me back up, brushing off my back. “Ignore him. He revels in the pain of others.” She shot Loki a look, then led the way further into the cave.

“Trust me, I noticed…” I grumbled. Loki and I both followed nonetheless, Loki with more pep in his step. Bastard.

At least the lack of wind made it feel warmer in there. Hell, judging by the fact we couldn’t see our breath anymore, it  _ was _ warmer inside the cave.

My temporary disdain for Loki- and my gratefulness for not so frigid air- vanished once we arrived at the cells. All seven of the people we had come to rescue were in varying states of unconsciousness in one cell, plus one. I spotted Sam along the wall. That made eight.

Worry shot through me like adrenalin. They might be alive, but how close were they to dying? Why was Sam Wilson here? Wanda had said back at the base that he was out with some other guy.

The only person who seemed fully awake was Clint, and even he had the look of being put through the wringer. He was leaned up against the back cell wall, eyes squeezed shut and face contorted. All the others were laying on their backs or sides on the ground. Still, everyone appeared to be breathing, and that was a good start.

Loki strode up to the cell and crouched down. He ran his fingers over the lock and sighed. “I won’t be able to use magic on this. It’s made of magic resistant metal.”

“But you will be able to open it, yes?” Lady Sif asked. Her eyes were focused on Thor, who was out like a brick. A very beefy, blond brick. Just like all the others, his chest rose and fell steadily, but sweat beaded his forehead. A grimace across his face made it clear that, despite being unconscious, he could be doing better.

The trickster god sighed, then waved his hand. Just like that, a lock pick and a torque wrench were in his hands. “I can try, but it’s been some time since I’ve had to do this by hand.” He got to work fiddling with the lock.

Little clinks and clanks caused Clint to open his eyes. He looked at me, then glanced at the two others, then back to me. “How, and who is that woman, and why  _ him _ ?” His voice dripped with contempt at  _ him _ . Even in the rescue attempt, Clint was none too happy to see Loki.

“He got us here, and she’s Lady Sif.” I watched Loki in pain as I spoke. In ten seconds, he had managed to break three lockpicks. Each time he broke one, he magically summoned another. How, I don’t know, but he did. As Loki broke the fourth one and summoned a fifth, I took the pic and wrench from him and shoved him aside. “Let me do this.”

Magic has its uses I can only assume, but damn, he needed to brush up on non-magic skills if he relies on them that much. Sure, the only reason I knew how was because I had gotten tired of being locked in my room at night in one particular foster home, but it was a useful skill to have. My hands shook and threatened to force me into a mistake that would break the pick. Despite this, I got the door open with just the one pick.

The door swung open with a low grinding noise.  _ I guess they don’t have WD40 on Jotunheim… _ It sounded like it needed a half canister, minimum. 

I looked at Clint as I walked into the cell. He had a proud little grin. “Guess even a god can’t do everything.”

Loki scoffed. “I’m merely out of practice, Barton. At least I’m not one of you fools in the cell.” He gestured to the six laying on the floor for dramatic effect. “They seem unduly out of it, and my oaf of a brother couldn’t even summon his hammer to save you.”

Lady Sif shushed him with a smack to the side. Clint rolled his eyes and tried to push himself into a standing position. “Yeah, well…” He grunted and managed to stand, but his legs were shaking. “I feel like my brain has been put through a paper shredder. Again.” There was a brief pause so he could pointedly glare at Loki. “Whatever Skull did to me, he did to them, and he probably did it with that damn Mind Stone.”

There were those two words again. They kept popping up and it wasn’t sounding like they would stop doing so any time soon. For what felt like the thousandth time in a couple days, I found myself wondering how it played into everything. “Is anyone going to fully explain what the hell that thing is?”

A chuckle came from Loki, as did the answer. “Do you not remember the explanation given at the base?” Condescending asshole… “Most simply put, it can be used to control the minds of others. Give waking nightmares. It  _ had _ been in my scepter, but I was under the impression you Avengers had it.”

Clint went to Wanda in the corner of the cell and gently shook her. “It ended up in Vision’s forehead.” He glanced at me as Wanda groaned and sat up. How the hell does a stone end up in someone’s forehead? “He’s a robot AI thing. Long story. But if Red Skull got it, then Vision’s likely dead.”

Well, that was bad news. Red Skull has a thing that can control minds, killed an Avenger, and incapacitated eight others. They were supposed to bring this guy down, but they couldn’t do that if he had the ability to do damage like that to so many people at once.

Wanda rubbed her face and looked around. “Now I know how you guys felt when I put you through the whole fear thing…” she muttered. She looked just as messed up as everyone else. Pale, disheveled, in mild to moderate pain… I didn’t envy her position.

Lady Sif walked into the cell and started trying to rouse Thor. “We need to wake whoever we can, and drag those we can’t outside so Heimdell can get us out of here.” Her shaking did nothing but make him snort and roll over. She shook her head and stood up. “He always sleeps like a rock. Thor will have to be dragged out.”

Wanda looked at everyone, her thinking face on. “I might be able to wake them up… It’ll be a strain on me, but it’s possible.” A red mist came from her hands as she put them on Sam’s arm. He blinked his eyes open. He looked stunned and just as out of it as Clint had been when we arrived, but Sam was awake. One by one, Wanda started working on the others.

“I’m going back to the whole fact that Loki’s here. Why the hell?” Clint was really stuck on that fact. I didn’t blame him.

“I knew the great lumbering oaf that is my brother would need help.” Loki leaned against the across from the cell while I worked on helping Sam stand up and not topple. “If he wasn’t rescued, there would no doubt have been a war that I’d be forced to participate in.”

Clint scoffed. “So you’re just trying to avoid a fight.”

Loki shrugged and said nothing else. Meanwhile, Wanda was looking worse and worse, but everyone was in the process of sitting or standing up. Lady Sif was supporting a haggard-looking Thor. He had less of the appearance of a god now, and more of the hungover hillbilly look going. “Let’s just get outside so Heimdall can bring us to Asgard. From there we can get to the infirmary and make sure all of you will recover.”

Various grunts and grumbles agreed with what she said, and all eleven of us made our way outside. It took a couple of attempts to get Thor up the icy entrance incline. He still wasn’t in good condition and kept slipping and falling forward, despite Lady Sif’s help. Even I ate it several times. In the end, it took two people pulling from up top while two people pushed from down below to get Thor out. It only took about ten minutes for everyone to be out of the cave.

Once we all escaped, Lady Sif looked at the sky and yelled for Heimdall. She did so in the same manner Loki had done back on Earth. Just like before, the great rainbow tube of the Bifrost came down around us.

Just as I was engulfed by the Bifrost, a searing pain shot through my head like a migraine on steroids and an unknown force yanked me back from behind.


End file.
